http://www.thebody.com/content/art59902.html#
To give you a little taste, here's a short introduction to an extraordinary woman!
Through My Eyes: Patricia Kelly
In 1985 I was incarcerated at the Women's Correctional Institution in Columbia, South Carolina, for writing bad checks. There I learned that I was infected with the AIDS virus. I had been heavily addicted to drugs and had used anonymous sex to feed my habit.
Back then, very little was known about HIV/AIDS. I'll never forget that the prison doctor wore a mask, gloves and a gown; from the other side of the room he told me that I had AIDS and was going to die. He warned me not to tell anyone because they would be afraid of me. I didn't comprehend what he was telling me. Yet I kept thinking that I was marked and damaged, I would never get married, I would never have sex again and I was going to die soon.
The prison staff whispered behind my back and acted as if they didn't want to come near me. I received minimal medical care. I was reluctant to take any medication because I knew very little about HIV. I did, however, receive some brief counseling and literature. For years I kept my diagnosis a secret---only the prison medical staff knew my status.
After I was released in 1989, I eventually made my way to Connecticut, where I ended up incarcerated at a women's facility near New London. Surprisingly, the care in Connecticut was better than in South Carolina. They had an infectious-disease doctor and a nurse that worked only with HIV-positive inmates, counseling, examining and dispensing meds. I periodically attended support groups there, an activity I continued throughout the mid- to late 1990s both in and out of various prisons. In support group I learned that HIV was not the automatic death sentence it was once thought to be; that I was not alone; and that help, counseling and treatment were available.
In 1998 I discovered that my T-cell count had dropped below 200. I started my first drug regimen. I cannot remember all of the meds that I have been given over the years. Some I tried only for a week or so--I had adverse reactions, including diarrhea, stomach problems and headaches. The doctors frequently had to adjust the dosages or take me off those drugs completely. But I always refused to take AZT. My brother had been on AZT and experienced terrible side effects--vomiting, night sweats and so on. He died of AIDS in 1990, right before his 41st birthday. I think his death, at least in part, increased my strength to continue living.
Eventually I started to really believe that there was a chance I was going to survive. Many new treatments were becoming available, and people were starting to live longer. I started receiving regular counseling. Before, I was waiting to die; now I was determined to live, despite having had the virus for nearly 20 years.
I married in 2000 and then moved back to South Carolina. I have three supportive children and six grandchildren, with the seventh expected in April. I am grateful to still be here to enjoy my family. I'm taking meds--Intelence, Viread and Ziagen--and doing great. I have never had illnesses due to HIV/AIDS; my T-cell count is 367, and my viral load is undetectable. I am educating people about HIV/AIDS and letting them know that they can live a healthy, productive life. A few ex-inmates and I are creating a curriculum to share life experiences with HIV-positive inmates. I am a founding member of the U.S. Positive Women's Network, a national support group of HIV-positive women working to change federal AIDS policy. I also travel and lecture. I am positive and victorious.
As told to Glenn Townes, an award-winning journalist based in New Jersey, who writes for Essence, Black Enterprise, Upscale and POZ magazines, among others.
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