Testimony of People Living with HIV cd4 cells Stories Positives Immune Window

Márcia: ART has arrived late

Marcia ART is late for you

Tarv arrived, but Marcia had already fought too much memoias-postumas-de-bras-cubas

Marcia had already suffered too much, taken too many bites, cried too much. And fortunately, I made her laugh a little. But in the end, she was too unloved.

And only for guys like me, messed up.

So much so that I, the patso, only realized that I loved her a day later…

A day after she left

ART was late for Márcia, in Memorian

The ART came late for many
Late or not, you knew!

Although I was no longer a resident of the support house and, because I could not get a job, I volunteered at CRT-A and the support house, taking care of a sadly weakened person, Waldir, who taught me a lot about humility, therefore, although I was a man, his penis needed to be cleaned and I would not have the stick face of going to call a nurse because "in chick I do not get it".

Thus, I helped people and got two meals a day, one at CRT-A and another at the support housewhere I refused to live in that hell. This in some ways may seem cynical, or even hypocrisy. But a person with AIDS, without medication, homeless, unable to feed will always consider this expedient lawful. Especially in the dark scenery of the 90 decade!

ART was late in the second half of the 90 decade of the 20th century

Then came the cocktail, the ART, and with it, what I called “the end of the first wave” (the triple therapy - the so-called cocktail - had just been implanted and there were still a lot of people in poor health) It was not difficult to find what to do.

ARV also arrived late for Waldir

Although I was not part of the target audience, I got a Support House Brenda Lee, my former manager, Elisabete.

Waldir, who died some 65 days later as a victim of something that appeared on the death certificate as miliary tuberculosis.

I was told to be widespread tuberculosis.

One day I get excited and tell this other story. Died of poverty the Waldir.

I got excited and told the link is right next door! ART can do little for him!

Over time, I learned a long time ago that everything, even with ART, is as God desires!

But it is not the story of Waldir that I come to tell here, on this page.

It's my story with Marcia, which I had the pleasure of meeting while accompanying Waldir.

Waldir's “Delivery”, Already in Antiretroviral Therapy Season

After "handing over" Waldir to receive his numerous care, which took him all day, I was free to go home and only pick him up in the late afternoon.

Search here is to put in the wheelchair and take to the ambulance

That was from the support house, known as Pope everything (…).

But he preferred to stay in the hospital, circling the corridors, going into each room, talking to people, and having a chance to hand a forgotten glass of water over to a room.

And sometimes to feed someone's spirit with some hope I didn't have myself. Despite the existence of ART at that time, my general condition was not the best.

Ms I was much better than many, countless !!!

And as you can see, I was pretty wrong about ART.

I Think I gave so much hope that I ended up convincing myself.

So I met Lia, Edna, Peter, Angela (19 hemophilic years), many other ones (like that girl who had complications with toxo and live consciously and in a fetal position, dependent on everyone for everything all the time); these among so many others, Marcia, that brings me tears even now, after so long.

The Fear of Knowing

She contracted HIV from her husband and was taken aback by a positive HIV diagnosis due to a number of opportunistic infections that attacked and killed her husband over a period of 5 months.

Damn it, Amaryllis was a victim and her husband too! The time between contagion and transmission capacity is zero!

She wasn't nice either (I always wonder how a person starts to get sick of this or that and no one bothers to take a closer look.

And I also ask how the person does not realize that something is wrong and lets go until the end.

It must be the fear of knowing, because The test has always been reliable!

But when I met her, I was better, I had to walk back, like a duckling hatches (I always said that to her, that smile ...), and was filled with hope.

It was not like Ultragas, every other day, ultragas at the gate

But I had to be there every day and get intravenous medication; the bites tortured her, there was no more vein that could be found without a search for 30, 50 minutes… and she cried just seeing the needle (I think it made her veins worse) and I always passed by 8 and a half in the morning to try to help (he hugged her and kept talking nonsense in her ear, sang hairy on the thirty-seven-year-old girl and she laughed like a child. At least distracted. And there are those who don't want to die of “vont'AIDS"

And she "had high"

This lasted a few months 2 and she was discharged.
Months later, I was out of the support house, I entered the CRTA to take care of myself and I came down the stairs 8, passing each of the rooms and I ended up finding Marcia, who slept, eyes open, quite dejected. So depressed that I was frightened. She was also startled by the sudden arrival of a person and woke up. We talked.

The tiredness ... .. I know this

There was not much to say. I do not believe in anything ... and she told me this:

ClaudioI'm tired, I do not want to live anymore.

Even without hope, scolded her and said she lived, who fought, who would not give now that he was so close (what?), Which go forward one more day.

I stayed with her as much as I could, but had to leave, it was a Friday and life called me out there charging me obligations and commitments ...

One last look

When I was leaving she hugged me and said:

Thanks for everything Claudius.

I cried (as I cry now) and I had no word… It was the last time I saw her in life on Earth… She died at home with her, who were immensely relieved (…).

It's a normal story, common to any hospital in the world. Just a detail in this story makes me account - it:

On Monday, early in the morning, I rushed to the hospital, still unaware of her fate, and wanted information.

The fridge

Then Dona Teresa, head nurse of the hospital day, a lady 55 years, gray hair, happy eyes (the image of the grandmother) told me that she had died.

Before my amazement and my sadness she said:

Why is that? You know, you, people living with HIV and people living with AIDS, always end well ...

I was, for a second, about to play - it's fourth floor, but gave herself ...

Never talked to her. It seems to me to this day completely absurd that a healthcare professional could be so insensitive ...

If you need to talk and couldn't find me or Beto Volpe, this is a much more balanced option, Beto, you can also send your message. Maybe I can take a while. I check the messages at noon, shortly after, in fact, at 20:00.
It's getting harder and harder for me, this whole thing, to type.
And I end up needing an interval between one paragraph and another.

But be sure of one thing I learned:

Time and patience solve just about everything!

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