HIV – Fear Not ! (My true story)
- Part 1 -

By Sapam Nandiker *

'Fear of danger is ten thousand times more terrifying than danger itself'.
—Daniel Dafoe

'Worry often turns out to be the interest you pay on a loan you have not taken'
—Arvid Kala

I lived in my worst nightmare from 1990 to 1994, and in a 'cesspit' after that, because of some imaginary fear I had about HIV/AIDS. Here is my living testimony. I was in Chandigarh when AIDS—among the general people HIV was not known then—was first detected in Manipur's Churchandpur district. It was strange news to us; we thought AIDS wouldn't come to Manipur.

When I heard again after a couple of days, all those who suffer AIDS were drug addicts, my nightmare started. I was there to give up drugs and study. I had done it before at Union Christian College (UCC) Barapani, Meghalaya. There I not only gave up drugs but became a serious student. I was not just among the top grade students but left my competitors behind in a particular subject, in a terminal exam.

After passing PU IInd year (now class XII) from UCC under NEHU I came back and got admitted in TDC (BA) at DM College, Imphal. There in the first year because of the environment I became an addict again to heroin NO 4—I relapsed. When I was hopelessly addicted—even if I wanted to give up, I couldn't—some friends who were addicts before going to Chandigarh came back 'cured' for their summer vacation. They told me I could give it up there.

I believed them since they were addicts before going there. I went with them without waiting for my result of the first year exam. There with a will and the 'environment' I finally gave up heroin NO 4. I was born again. It was a new life. I felt closer to nature. I began to see those mundane things which I have overlooked when I was an addict. Those ordinary things like chirping of birds, sunrise, etc made me happy. The feeling of love for my family and my girlfriend came in flood.

However it was calm before a storm. When I heard all those who contracted AIDS were drug addicts, I calculated my risk of getting AIDS and it was too high. The dim hope of not getting infected with the virus as I fixed alone in my room most of the time and I had shared syringes with only a few friends was eclipsed by the excessive fear of AIDS : I was devastated. I could not sleep that night, filled with horror, soaked with cold sweat.

In the morning I went to a pharmacy who sells restricted drugs on the black market. I asked for morphine but I couldn't get it, so I bought a 2 ml vial of Norphine (Buprenorphine) with disposable syringe and 2 bottle of phensydyle cough syrup (regular size). In my room I gulped down a bottle and tried to inject the whole 2 ml but second thought prevented me from fixing the whole lot : if I met with an overdose others would think it was an AIDS related suicide or an attempt if I survive. I fixed (injected) half of it.

Day after day I repeated the process but it didn't help me forget the fear however it makes me somewhat insensitive to the fear. I changed from Morphine to 'brown sugar' (heroin of poor grade). I fixed the stuff that's not meant for injection. The chains of habit became too strong to be broken. I became an addict once again of heroin (brown sugar), however the nightmarish problems of addiction didn't completely subdue the unfounded fear.

Financial problems cropped up but as electronics was my hobby, to earn some money I turned some sort of professional, working day and night. With money from it and with my monthly money from home, my financial problem was somewhat solved; but it converted me into a hard core addict. However, it didn't still override the fear.

One night I looked at the point at issue rationally from an optimistic angle. I reasoned it was wrong to assume I have AIDS without any concrete proof. I decided to go home and look at the condition there. In the summer vacation I went home. I met my girlfriend there as she too came out for her vacation. She was afraid of the situation over there. She wanted me to go for an AIDS check. She told me her neighbour, a friend of mine, went for an AIDS check and came out negative.

She wanted to show others I was also negative. I didn't give her a clear answer but an incoherent one. I found out there among my friends no one seemed to have contracted the disease. It made me happy like anything. At that time we believed the health of anyone who got AIDS wouldn't be good. After some days I met an old friend of my college (DM) days. We chatted. He told me the condition of Manipur concerning AIDS was really bad, even the guy X from his locality got AIDS. He didn't know the same guy used to fix with me two years (approx) back.

The news blew out the winds out of my sails. I came home in a dazed state. Apart from taking Phensydyle which I have 'substituted' with much difficulty from brown sugar, I started fixing heroin No 4 again, as the information was driving me 'mad'. In time I was badly under its control. My self imposed rule never to do anything that's risky was broken. One day my cold turkey was real bad, somehow I procured the stuff but the syringe I was carrying didn't work. To buy syringe was very difficult if not impossible. Harm reduction programme was not even in our dreams. I used one of my friend's old unused syringes, consoling myself that he didn't have the virus

After the fix, 'consciousness' returned. I could not forgive myself for the extreme error in judgment, however there was no use crying over split milk; I could only vow never to commit the same mistake ever again. Whatever, at the back of my head some hope that I was not infected was still there.

I went back to Chandigarh many days late. My friends over there thought I came back getting AIDS: I became thin because of the heroin addiction, and turned dusky and dark because of too much exposure to the sun, searching for the stuff on my mo-bike; sometimes to far off place. 'Stigma and discrimination' started from some students; however it was 'covert'. It left me broken hopelessly. I didn't continue my studies - I didn't take admission even though I passed.

As I was planning for my 'eternal peace' by resting in my grave, I thought to continue studies would be a waste of time, money, and energy. I exist in my personal hell. Even though somewhere in the back of my head there was a faint hope of not getting it, every second I was tortured by the nightmare of AIDS. Even a boil freaks me out assuming it was AIDS.

I was forced by the circumstance to put up to my girlfriend that we need to break up. It was the thing I hated and hurts me most. When I had been in Manipur 'childish pride' to make myself look manly, and drugs occupied my time more than the time for her, it was not true love but rather 'shallow childish love'. All her effort – hoping against hope- to take me into the light from the dark was in vain. When I have finally given up drugs there in Chandigarh, I wrote to her; she was very happy.

As she was studying outside of Manipur we wrote to each other very frequently. At that time I was very sentimental and back to my true self again because of drug withdrawal; moreover her absence made my heart grew fonder: I found true love and it was deep, coming from the heart. Breaking it was the hardest thing for me but I had to do it. I never wanted to risk dragging her into the hell and feel guilty as sin for that. I didn't want to take chance no matter how small it was.

We didn't have any sort of physical relationship, and never we would until we enter conjugal life; however others would think otherwise. I reasoned the earlier the break-up; the better it would be for her welfare. I knew she would not accept it easily as I didn't let her know the reason. After much gloomy introspection I carried out the break up with unbearable heartbreak.

'Heavy the sorrow that bows the head when love is alive and hope is dead'
— W.S. Gilbert.

I consoled myself what I was doing was the right thing: even though the cost would be hard to bear, the prize would be remembered throughout my life. I wanted to attain 'eternal peace'; it was easy and hard at the same time. Easy because only some milligrams more from my usual dose would do; hard because, I didn't want to blacken the good name of my family and ex-girlfriend. It was the hardest times of my life. Whatever it was, the second and the hardest plan was finally completed, (the first was giving up studies).

To make myself numb and forget everything I increase the frequency and dose. In time I was heavily into drugs – a hard core. My room became a 'haven' for me and my friends who were addicts. We became a selfish lot. To a hungry man food is god. We were cent percent sure we will be more than hungry the next 'day'. However safety was our first priority. We always sterilized or buy disposable syringe.

Strangely, little by little, some hope had started to build up, as all my fears – those freaking out and all – turned out to be normal occurrences. The fear even though it was decreased a lot, some was still there. I lived like that for approximately two and a half year. My zeal to become someone melted away…..everything was gone. The 'meaning' of living was no more there. I finally came home defeated and feeling very small.

One morning in August 1994 I had a splitting headache but it went away when I had my morning fix. Sometimes I didn't feel any headache. I didn't know it was because of heroin injection, the best pain killer. Whatever it was, I knew something was very wrong with me. However I still could not ask my uncle (a doctor) out of fear and unavailability – when I woke up, he have already gone to his clinic. One afternoon a doctor whom my family was quite frank with came to our house.

I asked him what was wrong with me that I used to have severe splitting headache. He enquired whether it was perpetual or sporadic. I replied 'innocently' that it happens only sometimes. He further asked me whether I took any intoxicants or drugs: I lied. He prescribed some medicine, but the headache got worse day by day in spite of taking the medicine.

My dose of heroin No-4 and frequency increased to numb the pain but my poor head could not take it so it took a rest – I fainted. I was in a coma. My family members took me to JN hospital, porompat. There after some days the diagnosis came. It was confirmed TB meningitis. With my history of drug abuse for years they thought it was HIV/ AIDS. At that time the stigma and discrimination was horrible as the knowledge of HIV/ AIDS was too little. They did a check to confirm it. After two weeks my HIV/AIDS result was confirmed negative.

I was referred to the Institute of Neurological Science, Dispur for a shunt operation to drain out the excess fluid collected in my head which was putting pressure on my brain; the cause of the severe headache. I had to reach there in the quickest time possible. Unluckily I could not get flight ticket for the couple of days. So they decided to take me there in a taxi (Ambassador Car).

The doctor, my brother and of course the driver had to sit in the front. I had to lie down on the back seat and the little space in front of my leg had to be occupied by my mother, leaning on the front seat. Even after she knows the hardship, she proposed of travelling 500 km (approx) without resting her back, and she was not the type to let others suffer.

Luckily on the next day we got 6 plane tickets through some connection. 3 seats for me to lie down (those seats were temporarily removed) 3 seats for the doctor, brother and mother (another brother came by road). When the flight touched down at Guwahati airport I was put on a waiting ambulance and drove off to Dispur. There the doctors scolded my brother for not bringing me earlier as there was only 10% chance of surviving.

The success rate was very low because of the lost of time; even so the doctors conducted a series of test for HIV/AIDS after they learnt about my drug addiction. The operation was conducted after day's delay, however luckily it was a success. 'Recuperation' took months. Finally I was discharged after a couple of test: I was shown colours and asked to name them, asked to solve some simple solutions. I did it because it's in an important compartment of my brain, it does not mean I was necessarily conscious.

We don't drink solid food, we chew; likewise we drink water, we don't chew even though we suffer amnesia. As my health was not fully restored I was again admitted to JN hospital, porompat. I continued my recuperation there. However, due to the nurse carelessness or fear of touching me now and again, affliction by bed (pressure) sore started.

The nurses 'refused' to do the needed dressing, so my brother did it without any prior knowledge. When the nurses 'refused' to inject me I had to do without it as my brother does not know it. After a week's stay I was 'discharged'. At home my brother continued to be my nurse and my mother was the assistant in dressing the sores.

To be continued....