Pregnancy & HIV

My Story...

(Disclaimer: I am writing this as I go along rather stream of consciously so editing will happen throughout the process so truly pardon any typos... I seem to have some kind of dislexic thing with their and there.)

Part 1: Education

...Prior to embarking to Africa I had worked several years for a well know financial insitution. Our primary function was lending large sums of money to projects internationally, from resort hotels in Palm Springs, to infrastructure such as roads in China, or fisheries in the Canary Islands. With the financial crash after the WTO incident I was laid off in the financial district of San Francisco and chose to take another path.

My job was to investigate these businesses, the credentials of their proprietors, analyse the varying assessments and plans, verify that the project would work and succeed, research any possible competition, and well as you can imagine that list goes on. I was also involved in legal due dilligence for the VP and Attorney for this institution which entailed a whole other level of research. I basically decided whether a plan was sound enough to warrant the lending of many millions of dollars. Call me a project analyst, a research consultant, a legal aid, a corporate investigator. Call me what you will.

I must add if I were put in a similar position regarding the HIV/AIDS Hypothesis. There are many more enlightening, safe, cost effective (at least for the American Government, though maybe not the pharmacuetical and medical industries) and logical theories that I would be willing to pursue after my years of analysing the information before us.

Part 2: Africa

With the crash of the early millenia I chose to leave the US for both financial reasons, and political reasons. I just did not feel safe, and felt the coming political choices were only going to aggravate that lack of safety. I had lived a rather luxurious life and was now greeted on my trips to the east bay by armed military personnel, and Hum V's. There were terror alerts on tv to manipulate peoples level of fear. Not to mention the Anthrax scares I could view out of my 22nd floor view from my office. It is interesting being a mother and taking into account that no matter what you do to protect your children, we are at the mercy of our leaders and their choices. The Africans found it shocking that I would feel safer there. Most shocking was that I felt safest as an extreme minority amongst the tribal villiage with the Xhosa tribe in the Transkei of South Africa.

Capetown

South Africa taught me so much. And the savage image often portrayed is not the full story. The crime and violence is very much perpetuated by the racism and exploitation: and most prevelant in the cities. The cities are also where a majority of the population are immigrants and refugees from other countries, and sometimes war zones, so I would say the exposure to violence is also more prevalent.

There are a substantial number of white South Africans, that still wish apartheid hadn't ended. And their feelings towards Americans aren't much different than those in the rest of the International World these days. I would say the Black South Africans were very welcoming as they still held that idealistic view of the American Dream. If you showed them respect, they equally returned it. Though so many lived in fear of them, I felt somewhat protected by them.

The Villiage

The Elders appreciated my view though the young were challenged. I saw a beautiful happy people, with simple means, and very little needs. Pure, Godly people. I prayed with the Elder Mommas and left with chills covering my body. (Though I also wonder if they may have showered me with fertility juju while they were at it.)

Those who had gardens were healthy and strong, while others who subsisted on the American bulk commodities like corn meal were prone to more issues. I did try to introduce complete proteins like brown rice and lentils, but their pensions where often too small to afford such luxuries. (pensions from the diamond, and metal industries)

I would ask the young why they wish to move off to the city where people would not treat them well... when most of the people in the city were working for what they had...some land in the country with a view of the ocean. Why be slaves when you have all you need right here to be free. The Elders named me "Nomboniso" Which I was told means "To help the people see." They had seen many of their children go off to the city to never return, or to return sick. There were many issues outside of that, like the level of chlorination in the water. The fact that they sustained on nutritionally defecient bulk commodities, white flour, white sugar, white rice, corn meal. They once were a herding tribe, but in the effort to be more civilized have been diverted from their natural diets which in and of itself has been known to complicate populations and contribute to health issues.

The truly poor in the villiage and cities alike subsist on nothing but corn meal. It has been proven for over a century that corn subsistence causes a B Vitamin/Niacin defeciency called Pellagra. The symptoms and manifestations of Pellagra are identical to AIDS. More ironic, is if you research Niacin & AIDS you will find studies showing Niacin is a known preventative of AIDS progression.Yet you never hear of Pellagra in Africa. And no one has investigated how many possible Bengui definition diagnosis that could essentially be Pellagra. Ironically something easily treatable with Niacin, something far cheaper than toxic ARVS but identicle to AIDS in definition. Wasting being a common effect of this illness.

Above all that I was like where are all these people dropping dead like flies from AIDS. I noticed their was a distinctly different look to the diagnosed in cities like San Francisco, than those in Africa. You can physically tell a person in San Francisco has HIV/AIDS simply because of the marked effects of the AIDS drugs. In South Africa because of lack of access to the drugs... it is practically impossible to tell. Though drug and alchohol issues are easily noticable and rampant. I must add when you see sick people in South Africa there are usually a long list of things that contribute to that, some as simple as contaminated drinking water, reused syringes, living in sewage, parasites and many other known causes of illness and death.

Amongst the villiagers I lived amongst there is a very traditional and religous value system that you find is almost stripped from them in their journey to the cities seeking wealth. No boy could speak with me at my krall without the supervision of my older brother. If a gentleman were to take me out he must speak and get the approval of my poppa.

Though the headmen could have many wives most men could only afford or chose to have only one. I would say they were not much more promiscuous than those in the urban cities of America. (Probably less by comparison truly) Being promiscuos definitely wasn't good for your reputation amongst the villiage. And there have been tribal leaders upset that the promotion of condom use is actually encouraging promiscuity amongst the young. Whereas we are lead to believe they are this savage sexually promiscuous people.

I was so at home there I was ready to marry one of the more prominent young men of the tribe, the local drum maker. I was happy to consider a tribal life with seven children cooking and baking bread by fire, as long as I could keep my lentils, and brown rice. Though it seemed there was some conflict over the number of cows he owned and we were unable to pursue this. One evening I had said a silent prayer "let he who is the one come to my door" and this young man knocked on my door fifteen minutes later making the promises necessary for me to consumate our relationship. (eg. he wanted to spend the rest of his life with me) This is where I concieved my daughter. Without realizing their would be problems later... which would cause me to travel on touring the last bit of the unseen South Africa and coming home to have my child.

I remember being asked before I boarded the plane home at a backpackers in Johannesburg after three years travelling and exploring the whole of South Africa... "What if you are HIV+?" and responding; Well from what I have learned here in Africa... what we are told and what I see are dramatically different. I am not sure if I believe the widely held view of HIV. This was before I even knew there were alternative theories, based solely on my personal explorations and questions along the way. Little did I know I was about to embark on a journey that was going to force me to validate what began as speculation or simply intuition.

Part 3: My return to Marin, & The US

Back home after three years abroad. Glad to have escaped the terror alerts, the terrorist fears, the Hum V's and machine guns on the bay bridge, and eager to get to work. I managed to explore many of my passions while in South Africa and was optimistic at applying them in the American economy as soon I was able to get on my feet. I moved back in with my good friend up on Mt. Tamalpais and begin seeking my pre-natal care and making plans for the future. I called old collegues in the financial industry seeking employment, but pregnancy was in the way. Excited about the beautiful child I was bringing home from Africa, but curious none the less about a certain test I assumed I would pass as I was afterall in perfect health and had remained so for the entire three years I lived in Africa without vaccines and all the other sort of precautions. I was relatively safe and cautious, and had lived a fairly clean lifestyle.

For some reason I had to go out of my way for the test to Marin City where the projects were and currently they were housing many refugee's from the New Orleans hurricane. I was brought into the intake lady and was asked the usual questions, to which I responded: I conceived in a rural villiage in Africa and am anxious to get this test done. At some point the intake lady interupted me and suggested that; quote: "You may not want to give them too much information." thinking nothing of the comment at the time I journeyed onward. I was given the orasure test and sent on my way. Later when told of how the question answer phaze can sometimes affect your diagnosis, I began to truly wonder what she meant by that. I mean really... "What DID she mean by that?"

Of course shortly thereafter I recieve a phone call from my OB who says I must come to her office for the results. There is a pressing issue that needs to be discussed. There is a problem with one of my test results. Of course I knew what that meant and me and my then 8 year old hit the public transport to visit the Doctor. At the time I was visiting the mission in San Francisco so that meant a very long bus ride back to Marin. I remember saying over and over to myself... let it be diabetes, let it be diabetes, let it be diabetes... I get to her office and I get the news... for some reason I am angry. I feel decieved. I believe the first words out of my mouth are something to the degree of "is this because I am having my child with the aid of welfare?" Don't even ask me where that came from but if there is meaning to your first instincts, well that was mine for some unknown reason. She wants to now drive me immediately to the lab for confirmatory testing. I consent and on we go. She tells me she will be unable to see me due to my now being a high risk pregnancy, and that I should contact the organisation for pregnant women in SF. This is finished I decide to be dropped in San Francisco where I had rented a spot to be in the city for a few days, and now to deal with this new shocking news and my true feelings about what HIV diagnosis means.

My first instinct is to get online and try to connect with other positives. Research the orasure test to which I discovered a high chance of false positives. Being a member of "tribe.net" at the time I found the group "Questioning AIDS" and "Alive and Well" and begin connecting with other diagnosed members who also questioned their diagnosis. I was immediately put into contact with someone prominent in the dissident movement. She told me the worst case scenario to prepare me for what was up ahead. Being a mother who had been through it, had defied convention, and come out the other side despite the difficulties. I already had a healthy mistrust in pharmacueticals, she gave me the number of other positive mothers, and assured me not to worry. Though to be prepared for the consequences of refusing the drugs. It was nice to know that there was much more to my theory than simply speculation.

I informed her that I have many questions about HIV since I had lived in Africa and had truly began to question what we are told is the consequences and causes of HIV and what the true reality was. That what I believed the causes of Immunosuppression were seemed far more likely a matter of health and nutrition, or simply a result of abuse to the body. Of course at some point I asked her if she too was HIV+ to which she responded in a very frustrated manner. Which put me off a bit, but would be short lived after I did my own research and began to validate much of the dissident view. Soon after someone also gave me her book. Which was truly eye opening and I began to work on researching some of the information that it expounded. I found the site Virusmyth which led me to some interesting information but wasn't quite enough to give me a true understanding of what I was dealing with, nor what I was up against. Though it did give me a clear picture of the many alternative theories and the fact that their most definitely were some interesting questions regarding the HIV/AIDS hypothesis. I am always weary of anything that is not fully validated. So I needed more. As time progressed I would discover more and more on a daily basis that would eventually cause me to know that my instincts were right. Information that goes way beyond the usual reading at a webite. Information that would make it impossible for me to deny that the drugs are toxic, and that the hypothesis is flawed.

I had my own theories about what caused AIDS based on the demographics it plagued. Drug abuse, poor nutrition, exposure to many other illnesses, abuse, depression. Duesburgs paper on the drug related theory was very informative and logical along with many of the others I read over the course. I was shocked to discover that their were even questions about whether HIV had even been isolated. I couldn't wrap my head around why the mainstream were so unwilling to debate the issues and more curious about how the topic was avoided. To me this implied guilt. Thinking to myself if they were so right, they would be willing to prove it. At this point I must have been running on the adreniline or something of that nature as the real trauma had not quite set in yet. What I was truly trying to figure out is why did I test positive, and what did I have in common with these other demographics... I remember thinking at one point "Constipation?" are we being poisoned by our own crap?

I had also been going through all the stuff that I had stored and the mice had gotten into it all... and I had found something about mouse antibodies being cross reactive. Then I read about pregnancy, and all the numerous other things known to cross react. Something inside me just said, girl you are fine... it just isn't the way they want you to believe it is. I must have gone on like this for several days. I remember my son at some point asking me whats wrong. I have never been able to lie to my child, and I said the Doctors have told mommy some pretty serious news. But don't you worry... I am gonna be just fine.

I also connected with Bapac while visiting SF, who so kindly informed me of all the drug options I had as a pregnant mother, how I would need to start treatment immediately to protect my child, that the drugs would make me sick, that I would likely be unable to work, but that social security would be made available to me, that the drugs had many side effects, but not to worry they had other drugs for those, and then prescribed me atavan for anxiety, (which made me severely depressed) and sent me on my way. I remember asking myself how something that would make me so sick could be remotely good for me and my child. I just could not see the logic.

I made a list of the drugs for later research. Something about these drugs just terrifed my instinctually. I truly felt that if i took these drugs they would kill me. Simply based on the information given to me that day.

After about a week we headed back to Marin. This is the point I guess when reality sunk in. It would still be a while yet before I began suffecient healthcare, and would begin to truly investigate the dangers of the drugs given. During that time period the Harpers article by Celia Farber would be released and I would learn even more about the dangers of the drugs which I would go on to verify with extensive research, calling a DNA specialist, researching and understanding the mitochondria, and speaking to other positive mothers and so forth.

When I returned to Marin it finally hit me. I think I must have laid in bed for days crying, sleeping, crying, sleeping. I would wake up and think things to myself things like, I wouldn't knowingly date someone with HIV, why would anyone want to be with me. I am destined to be alone. No one will ever love me again. My life is over. I can see how this diagnosis could also lead someone to the temptation of further damaging themselves with the myriad of escapes, drugs, alchohol, or even suicide. I know that had I not been pregnant I may have done anything that would help me escape the feeling that my life was over, and that all my dreams were part of the past. Feeling there was no one I could talk to I shared with my housemate, who truly didn't know how to respond. I told one of my closest friends, and an ex-boyfriend, we have never spoken again since that day. One responded with agression as though I was utterly stupid and had failed them for ending up in this position. In all reality there really was no one I could talk to, besides the new friends I had met on the internet, and the doctors. I had left SF a successful business woman with a million friends. I had returned anew, though damaged, and completely alone. Then and only then did I begin to discover the true meaning of friendship, and how truly few friends that I actually had.

In the end only one true friend from my past would be there. It would be a very strange experience because I have been forever changed. My feelings toward myself. Towards those around me. My ability to be close or intimate. Ahhhh but I do get way ahead of myself.

I was shaken from this when I was told by my housemate that I would now have to move out, and had two weeks to do so. This all within the first month of my return from Africa. A pregnant single mom now diagnosed with HIV. Have you ever tried to find a place in the bay area? Add pregnant with an 8 year old to that and wanting to rent only one room... not an easy feat. So being the resourceful advocate natured person that I am I begin calling organisations to see if any can help. I must have called over 50 agencies all of which promised they could help. I would travel to them, do intake, and then be told they couldn't help and I should try this next agency. I cannot help but wonder how much grant money is recieved for each piece of paper they have filled out. It really is no wonder why the bay area is so aggressive. Though I suppose that will change with the coming changes in funding.

The homeless shelter could only help once I was on the street, and there were immediate openings if I were willing to say I had mental health, or drug abuse issues... Not my forte' sorry. Definitely not environments I wanted to subject my child to either. We had enough on our plates.

Eventually after almost two weeks and hours upon hours on the phone and signing up with and calling organizations in three counties... I did connect with a housing situation in Oakland, but the only way I could access that was to change my medical care to a specific hospital in Oakland. DONE. They had to do some finagling about residency and I was given a room in a transitional house for HIV+ women. Of course the story only gets more interesting here... because thinking I was suddenly going to be in a place for support was truly only a fantasy. And the experience of being a tossed around newly diagnosed patient with full coverage medicaid was another interesting journey. Corporate Insurance most definitely was dramatically different. Throw in the heavily drugged schizophrenic housemate... the woman dying in the room downstairs from the numerous drugs being fed to her, the support groups where pretty much all the women were being abused in some way, and life is just a bundle of stress, anxiety, depression, and fear.

Oakland

I actually have to say that the people in Oakland were alright... for the most part. I had a nurse practioner who was very interested in my connection with the metaphysical. When the Doctor from SF would sit in... well it was different. My initial bloodwork only had certain bands and not all of them. My bloodwork was immaculate. And The Nurse Practioner was not pushy about the drugs. The Social Worker on the other hand well she was quite a bit more pushy... The one time I actually did see my doctor I asked him... "Why are they so agressive" He responded "We train them that way." Then of course the passed me onto to a therapist, and one for my child. Funny I think I talked with my therapist more about certain friendships than I did about my diagnosis. Then of course she suggests anti-depressants. To which I responded I am pregnant, and emotional, and I just got told the one thing NO ONE wants to hear. I was like is there really something wrong with my brain chemistry or am I simply dealing with reality. A happy pill is not going to take away the reality I need to face. Not to mention the increased rates of suicide and depression. I am shocked they can advertise something that essentially in the disclaimer it has the potential to create everything it is supposed to fix. So I refused the anti-depressants.

It was really nice to have a space to decompress from it all. At first I got the attic room and there was plenty of space for me an my son. We had lived in a one room hut for some time. Which truly was enough. One of the things I brought home from Africa was the difference between want and need, and how to prioritize that. I left the world of excess to return to the world of simplicity. I had a friend visit and she was in my room. And the older lady below me made a huge thing about it. I didnt know it was against the rules as I was clearly told that I could have visitors before a certain time. This lady was in every drug study that she could be in. It showed very clearly. But being in my early 30's and always self suffecient and independant this would be an adjustment. Exactly how this diagnosis brought me to my knee's and impacted my life is undeniable. I had never been in such a situation... and truly nothing was wrong with me, but my life was essentially destroyed by a few words and a piece of paper, a test that could even be questioned to many degrees particularly in my case.

The woman who ran the house was amazing though. She didnt live there but was around daily. I was able to talk with her about my concerns and she running this house... had seen the effects of the drugs first hand and understood my fear and apprehension regarding them. She was definitely the highlight. The older woman in the room below me made a fus about my having the attic room and also now had to move into a smaller room downstairs... It had its own bathroom and being that I was pregnant it was safer with less stairs. Though now the woman below me is across the hall.

So as I said the social worker kept me busy. Support Groups, Therapist, OB, Specialist, Research studies... meetings with her, meetings with childrens hospital... I think at some point I suggested if they re-imbursed me for my time it would be a full time job. They consumed my life. I remember going to the support groups and the demographic was distinct. As a matter of fact I found it strange that I never met between Oakland and San Francisco another caucasion woman who was also positive. I found it very curious. I would ask myself... viruses really aren't selective... what is the common denominator. Why does this diagnosis unjustly affect certain demographics. This of course was no big deal to me personally... as myself and my son had been the only caucasians in a villiage with hundreds of Africans from the Xhosa tribe. It was just another part of the equation that didn't fully add up to standard virus theory.

It was hard to listen to the stories of the woman in the support group, women who stayed with the abusive man because of her diagnosis. She was affraid she couldn't do better didn't believe she deserved better and had basically lost her love of self. Another who was unable to even consider broaching the subject with her 13 year old daughter and lived her life as though she was always hiding something. Stories of shame. Fear. Side Effects. I never left a support group without feeling incredibly depressed. If I took what was presribed for my anxiety it would make me more depressed. I sometimes just couldn't get out of bed for two days after one of them. I remember at one point exclaiming I refuse to be ashamed. This has happened... I asked to be enlightened and well I must say this in very enlightening. I have conquered materialism, ego, and death all in one go. "I refuse to be ashamed." I was told that I must not feel ashamed because I am white. They are saying this to woman who has just returned from Africa, pregnant with a Xhosa child. I was truly saddened. But I figured if I could not empower the women because of my skin color... I would teach my daughter to do it well. This would be my last visit to the support group. I don't know how many times during my pregnancy that I just wish I could reclaim my life from the medical industry.

The woman now across the hall (and in every study available for different AIDS drugs) is informing me that the woman she takes care of downstairs, who's room I have never stepped foot in is missing 35.00 I am at a loss as I have never been in her room, and stay in my room when I am not out of the house. I attempted to acquire internet but had to share the phone with my housemated so it was minimal. When I was upstairs I was able to pirate wireless for a while... so I am also feeling cut off from the world. I have been steadily looking for apartments but it is just impossible as a pregnant single mom to find a room. The lady gets more intense and is now accusing me of stealing to which I am just appalled and am really starting to think... What the hell did I do to this lady. She clearly hates me. She thinks she owns the house. And is now accusing me of doing something only she has access to do. Truly I didnt need the extra stress. Things escalate and it gets weirder and continues and I am really just feeling basically harassed. We are all locking our doors now because things are missing... and Now I am told for my own sanity that she is suffering mental health issues and can be delusional or may be stealing herself. Which helps but doesn't change much.

So finally I catch a break and go to SF to look at a room. I can have it immediately. I think yay! The lady in SF seems nice the room is in the mission and big. I can have the doctor that sits in on my appointments from SF and have more access and be closer to everything. Not to mention FREEDOM.

I get back to the house excited, and I notice (as we have all been religiously locking our doors now) That my neighbors door is wide open and there is money spread all over the bed. I immediately call the House manager and tell her whats going on she comes over cause I don't even wanna touch this ladies door and locks this ladies door. In the meantime the lady returns and basically is going off claiming I stole her money and threatening to fight me... well sadly she was committed... and I left that evening to return for my things in the coming day or so. Still only scratching the surface... but yes that was my experience seeking support in Oakland.

To be continued... Still constructing... Next up: San Francisco. Research. Research Studies. Researchers.

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