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How could I truly understand how a person could cope with all the
aspects of this disease?
I remember one day I inadvertently hurt him. Tom took an
incredible number of pills. Some were to slow the progression of the
disease, some to ward off secondary infections and some to counteract
the adverse side effects of the others; a real cocktail. The time came to
take his medications and Tom flatly refused. I knew his throat was sore
from infections and swallowing was painful but I also knew he had to
take the pills. Trying to be helpful and encouraging, I reminded him that
the pills would help and, although I sympathized with his discomfort in
swallowing them, it was important that he do so. I reminded him that
we all loved him and wanted him to be as well as possible as long as
possible. Still he refused.
" Why," I finally snapped, " Do you refuse to take them? Do you
want to be sick?"
With tears in his eyes, he softly replied, " No, it's because I
don't want to be sick. I want to forget, for just awhile but, every time I
have to take these pills, five times a day, every day for the rest of my
life, I am over and over again reminded that I'm sick and I'm going to
die!"
Finally comprehending his reluctance, in silent apology I
opened my arms and we cried together. Although it was a bad day, that
shared moment of closeness and understanding was good.
Sometimes when we talked, I glimpsed his pain. He never
really dwelt on his imminent death, he seemed at peace with that. The
loneliness caused by other's fear and ignorance was his private hell.
His partner and dearest friend had predeceased him, leaving a terrible
void. Friends didn't want to associate with him, seemingly in fear that
the stigma of AIDS would rub off and they, too, would be shunned.
Strangers stared at him with fear and/ or revulsion. His biggest anguish
was losing contact with his beloved niece. Megan was the only child of
his younger sister and they dearly loved each other. In his fear and
ignorance, Megan's father refused to allow her to visit Tom, fearing that
she could become infected. Nothing could convince him of her safety.
Although her mother still brought her occasionally, Tom felt nearly as
bad about the conflict it was causing as he did about not seeing the
child. In most circumstances a dying person is surrounded by caring
family and friends, but people dying of AIDS are often shunned, the
loneliness and isolation an added burden.
Once in a while his nearly forgotten sense of humour and
playfulness would break through the depression. Tom often had trouble
sleeping and, if I heard him tossing or pacing, I would go to his room. If
Object Description
| Rating | |
| Title | Write On! |
| Language | en |
| Date | 2004 |
Description
| Title | Page 61 |
| Language | en |
| Transcript | How could I truly understand how a person could cope with all the aspects of this disease? I remember one day I inadvertently hurt him. Tom took an incredible number of pills. Some were to slow the progression of the disease, some to ward off secondary infections and some to counteract the adverse side effects of the others; a real cocktail. The time came to take his medications and Tom flatly refused. I knew his throat was sore from infections and swallowing was painful but I also knew he had to take the pills. Trying to be helpful and encouraging, I reminded him that the pills would help and, although I sympathized with his discomfort in swallowing them, it was important that he do so. I reminded him that we all loved him and wanted him to be as well as possible as long as possible. Still he refused. " Why," I finally snapped, " Do you refuse to take them? Do you want to be sick?" With tears in his eyes, he softly replied, " No, it's because I don't want to be sick. I want to forget, for just awhile but, every time I have to take these pills, five times a day, every day for the rest of my life, I am over and over again reminded that I'm sick and I'm going to die!" Finally comprehending his reluctance, in silent apology I opened my arms and we cried together. Although it was a bad day, that shared moment of closeness and understanding was good. Sometimes when we talked, I glimpsed his pain. He never really dwelt on his imminent death, he seemed at peace with that. The loneliness caused by other's fear and ignorance was his private hell. His partner and dearest friend had predeceased him, leaving a terrible void. Friends didn't want to associate with him, seemingly in fear that the stigma of AIDS would rub off and they, too, would be shunned. Strangers stared at him with fear and/ or revulsion. His biggest anguish was losing contact with his beloved niece. Megan was the only child of his younger sister and they dearly loved each other. In his fear and ignorance, Megan's father refused to allow her to visit Tom, fearing that she could become infected. Nothing could convince him of her safety. Although her mother still brought her occasionally, Tom felt nearly as bad about the conflict it was causing as he did about not seeing the child. In most circumstances a dying person is surrounded by caring family and friends, but people dying of AIDS are often shunned, the loneliness and isolation an added burden. Once in a while his nearly forgotten sense of humour and playfulness would break through the depression. Tom often had trouble sleeping and, if I heard him tossing or pacing, I would go to his room. If |
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