Being Alive; February 1994
Sean Kinney

Recently there have been two people that have reinforced my beliefs in the way I choose to live with AIDS. They represent the black and white of living while you are dying. The first is my stepfather who died just this last December. The second is my maternal grandmother who is still very much alive. After seventy plus years of life, Del (my stepfather) was diagnosed with an incurable cancer, the clock was ticking and with each sweep of the second hand, his anger grew. None of us scramble for a life filled with illness, set backs, emotional drama or a life threatening illness, but we harbor the choice to move through the circumstances and continue on. He died never accepting his life or the conditions he succumbed to. His anger controlled his life and stole a peaceful death. He never said good-bye and left a permanent scar in the lives of those who loved him because they couldn't properly let go.

January marks the eighty-fifth birthday of my grandmother. She has lived a great life and she knows it. She has effectively endured the countless circumstances that life has offered. She survives in spite of her limitations. She inhales oxygen not through tears of sorrow but with a smile. She is inspired by what she does from the moment her eyes open until she falls off to sleep. Doctors have spent years seeking solutions for her physical conditions, only to find nothing. She pursues a quality of life that no ailment can limit. She explodes way beyond the means of her body and never looks back.

I thank God that beyond AIDS there are the genes of my grandmother. In me her spirit is multiplied. We the people living with AIDS have reason for outrageous anger. We have cause for drama. Though today our lives are stable, there is serious illness and uncertainty. There is no escaping the fact that today we are feeling good and very much alive, tomorrow someone dies. Today our drug treatment works, tomorrow a friend does not respond to medications that would sustain what little quality of life he has left. Whatever our spiritual make-up, there is just no way to bounce in and out of the cycle of AIDS without enormous strength.

We all have stories grander than the next. Do you define your life by the dreams of your tomorrow or are you imprisoned in the memory of the pains of yesterday? How do you cope with living life on the edge? Take a long look, do you focus on your endless drama, speaking only of your hospital stays and unfortunate missed diagnosis? Do those around you know more about your illness than about the person you have become in spite of it all? Is your illness a badge of honor?

In this past season of Advent I accepted my life anew. Yes there was so much that happened to me in the period of a year that I could just share endlessly to those who would listen, but why? With my unique list of ailments I am still alive. I am able to get up in the morning and function. There are many days I even go to work. When there is opportunity, I seize it. In spite of what was, I see what is now and share the quality of my life, however currently defined, with those around me.

Survival with grace is my way of life. Beyond case managers, social workers, doctors and therapists, there is us. What are your choices? I don't need to remind those around me that life is a constant challenge to me, different from theirs. They see the weight loss; they experience my loss of various abilities. My circumstances are viewed by them first hand. I feed off their inspiration when they see my response to the next chapter of AIDS. Getting through it and moving on is perhaps the strongest way I can say it. I deeply treasure the intervals between the bad times. Why waste precious energy during the good days recounting the drama of the bad days?

When we survive the horrors of opportunistic infections, we should honor and celebrate our life. "Get over it," really applies. I am not immune to the depression that accompanies our disease, but I refuse to stay in my anger. My life and the lives of many others around me benefit from the use of anger in a positive response. When the drama is over, I look back and acknowledge what happened and realize that I am still alive. Until there is a cure, what I have is faith, strength and the hope of tomorrow. When the door closes on the drama and a new door opens and all we are asked to do is walk through, remember the experience and never look back.

940201
BA940219

Copyright © 1994 - Beings Alive. Permission granted for noncommercial reproduction, provided that our address and phone number are included if more than short quotations are used. Subscription lists are kept confidential. Being Alive, 621 N. San Vicente Blvd., West Hollywood, CA 90069, Tel - 310.289.2551; FAX - 310.289.9866; Email: BeiAlive@aol.com  http://www.beingalivela.org/