Roland’s Story

Wednesday, March 23rd, 2016 in Personal Stories - Featured, Personal Stories - Men

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Roland

 

Watch Roland talk about his story

 

I was given my diagnosis on 1 September 2006. My partner had to give me the diagnosis. I was given two weeks to live. I was HIV+. I had AIDS. My AIDS-defining illness was Progressive Multi-focal Leukoencephalytis, a brain disease.

The first person I told was my partner’s closest friend. I wanted him to have somebody around him who would know in case something happened to me. She was fine. She was informed. She reassured me that she would make sure my partner was OK. I told my partner that I had told her.

I had no choice about starting treatment. As my carer, initially my partner had to make sure I took the right medication at the right time. It was a struggle at first, but now it is almost second nature. I’m on my 7th regime, due to side effects of the other six. I’ve now been on this one for almost three years and, most of the time, it seems to be going fine. I have been undetectable and with a CD4 count hovering around 600 for about 18 months. Something to be grateful for!

Being diagnosed has had a big impact – a positive (no pun!) impact. I do a fair amount of voluntary work in the HIV sector and I became Chair of the Disability Staff network at work. It has given me something useful and constructive to do and it has brought me into contact with so many wonderful, inspirational people, that I would never have come across before. So I am grateful.
I have had brilliant medical support. And support from organisations such as Positively UK, Terrence Higgins Trust, National Long Term Survivors’ Group, and others. And support from other HIV+ individuals along the way. From friends. And, most of all, from my partner. He has stuck with it, somehow. And for that too, I am grateful.

The things I am less grateful for? The dentist who refused to treat me; the ping-ponging backwards and forwards between my HIV specialist and GP; the knee-jerk reaction from the administration at work who suggested very strongly that I should take early retirement on medical grounds when I disclosed my status to them; the aches and the pains (but hey, I’m not getting any younger!); the sudden overwhelmingness of it all that still… occasionally… hits me.

But these things are minor, very minor, in return for still being alive. And still being grateful.

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