Bay Windows - June 1, 2006
Jeff Epperly

I was in my mid-20s and a volunteer doing public relations grunt work for CAP. But because there were so few people at the organization, I often ended up doing work that would later be left for the professionals: head to the hospital and be a caseworker of sorts because there was nobody else to do it.

You did it not because you were a hero, but because you hoped somebody would be there for you if you were in the same situation. Because at that time hospitals had doctors, nurses and orderlies who were scared to death of "catching" the disease. Many wouldn't go near these gay patients unless they absolutely had to - and, even then, only when they were dressed in what looked like space suits.

In some important ways those early years were the easy part, however. Not the death and dying part, of course. I mean dealing with the emergency aspect of it all.

Friends of mine have wondered aloud in the wake of terrorist attacks and natural disasters whether they'd rise to challenges presented by the extraordinary situations in which we sometimes find ourselves. I always tell them not to worry. I'd never volunteered a day in my life before I joined CAP. You just do what needs to be done and it all becomes second nature astonishingly fast. I think it's second nature for humans to help one another in emergencies.

The hard part is when the emergency is over - or, in the case of HIV, when the people who got it before we knew it existed and unwittingly infected others were replaced by people (many of whom are substance abusers) who have unsafe sex despite knowing how this virus in transmitted - not surprisingly, two groups with great overlap. These are the innocent victims of HIV versus the guilty ones. This notion has only recently gained credence, even among people who should know better, as we have trudged into the middle of the epidemic's third decade. It's called compassion fatigue and it's alive and well.

I witnessed this hardening of opinion first-hand since revealing in these pages and elsewhere that I had a very serious crystal meth problem that took me to wild sex parties at which people took drugs and had sex like HIV never existed.

"You and your sex party-boy friends dishonor the memory of everyone who fought and died fighting this epidemic," said one angry AIDS activist friend of mine at lunch one day. Fair enough.

In the four years after my last puff of crystal I've had a lot of time to reflect on why all this happened, and spoken with a lot of current and former crystal users, searching for some grand reason that explains it all. I've come up only with the most obvious answer: mostly it's just about being high as your primary motivator, and everything else just fades into the background. The idea that someone might think I was doing something wrong didn't come up much. But I do know this much: take care of the substance abuse and people go back to making choices that protect them, and everyone else.

Only right-wingers and the willfully obtuse expect that everyone will do the same thing they do. Especially in matters of sex and love, humans are not rational. Many of the things that make romance and lust so wonderful are the very things that assure that no educational campaign will ever elicit a one-size-fits-all response - and that some people will make now-and-again poor choices that turn out to be a spin of the wheel. Add substance abuse into the mix, and all bets are off.

Society has always been made up of risk-takers and the risk-averse, sexual or otherwise. Knowing sex can transmit a disease, even a potentially fatal one, has never been the best motivator because it's not fatal every time. Just as not wearing a seat belt isn't fatal every time. Or, every cigarette's not fatal. Nor does every hiker or skier who goes into uncharted or dangerous territory get injured. But some do. Which ones do we leave up on the mountain because they made bad choices?

If we're going to start apportioning our compassion based on whether sick or injured people are angels, our compassion is going to dry up awfully fast.

In the end, however, continuing to support HIV education programs - and substance abuse treatment programs - isn't just about compassion; it's about the wise use of public funds that will save all of us money and lives in the future. I'd like to think that's what all the people who came before us would want us to do.

Twenty-five years later, you'd think we'd learned at least that much.

060601
BY060604

Always watch for outdated information. This article first appeared in 2006. This material is designed to support, not replace, the relationship that exists between you and your doctor.

AEGiS presents published material, reprinted with permission and neither endorses nor opposes any material. All information contained on this website, including information relating to health conditions, products, and treatments, is for informational purposes only. It is often presented in summary or aggregate form. It is not meant to be a substitute for the advice provided by your own physician or other medical professionals. Always discuss treatment options with a doctor who specializes in treating HIV.

Copyright ©1980, 2006. AEGiS. All materials appearing on AEGiS are protected by copyright as a collective work or compilation under U.S. copyright and other laws and are the property of AEGiS, or the party credited as the provider of the content. .