“Two weeks later, I walked into my doctor’s office and my life changed for good. The news of my HIV infection was the last thing I expected, and the first thing I feared. It instantly altered my vision. It was like being in a movie theater when something goes wrong in the projector room, and suddenly the film slips, and the images are out of focus and slipping haphazardly beneath the screen, and the light flickers and the figures jump. And you wait for it to be fixed, for the movie to jump back into its space, for the story to go back to itself, for the scenes that have already been lost to be pieced together in retrospect. And you wait and wait. And then it dawns on you that, in fact, the movie will never be fixed, that from now on, this is the movie, and that from now on, you will have to find a way to watch it differently, to adjust your eyes and vision and hearing, to glean from its new disorder an order that you can remember and comprehend.”
From “When Plagues End”, Love Undetectable: Notes on Friendship, Sex, and Survival, by Andrew Sullivan.
If I’d read the above back in 2003, while I was being diagnosed with ulcerative colitis by what had to be the world’s most no-nonsense, unsympathetic gastroenterologist, I might have been able to get a better handle on things. As it was, most of my conscious thought was drowned out by the life-encompassing record scratch. For your enjoyment:
Daily Word Count: 789