“That’s when I was given an HIV diagnosis,” she said. “I was pretty numb. I don’t remember crying.”
She is not certain which man gave her HIV; she suspects it was her third child’s father, whose death certificate said he died of AIDS, she said. (Her children do not have HIV.)
“But I am not one to point fingers, because of my lifestyle then,” she said. “I didn’t practice safe sex. And I didn’t discuss it with him.”
Over the next decade, Heard “fantasized” that her “bug” was something else. She never got a prognosis, or any death sentence.
In 2000, she enrolled herself in a local drug treatment center, and her children were moved into city foster care. But once Heard completed her detoxification, she got them back. Soon, she was referred to the Women’s Collective, where she began volunteering and working part time.
In 2004, she grew extremely sick. She had never taken any HIV medication, and her body was deteriorating. Her feet tingled. She developed mouth infections. She suffered bouts of AIDS-related pneumonia. Her T-cells had plummeted so much that she was formally diagnosed with AIDS. Once, she got so sick that she was laid up for days in bed. Her daughter, Zataunia, remembers her asking: “What would you do if I died?”
She finally began taking medication to stave off the disease. Bactrim at first, then Zerit, Reyataz and Atripla. Added to the mix: a monthly supply of whole-leaf aloe vera liquid for drinking.
Slowly, the crisis passed and her health improved.
* * *
Shortly after lunch, Heard introduced herself to Darnell Burley, a 24-year-old man wearing loose jeans and a Hugo Boss jacket, who said he had just been released from prison after serving time for destroying property. He wanted an HIV test.
Heard ushered him to a back room, where she had him sign some papers, pricked his pinky finger and waited 20 minutes to see if had HIV.
While the digital clocked ticked on, she interrogated him. “Tell me, what brought you in?”
“Just walked past,” he said.
“What was your highest level of education?”
“Twelfth,” he said.
“Your last HIV test?”
“February,” he said.
“Why did you come in?” she asked.
“You have to know your status; anything less is uncivilized.”
The clocked reached 20:00. The test results were negative. Thrilled, Burley pulled out his cellphone and called the mother of his 8-year-old to celebrate.
Late afternoon came.
Heard was with the 37-year-old who wasn’t sure she could keep her doctor’s appointment, tightly clasping her hands, hoping to connect with her physically and emotionally.
Heard smiled to calm the woman and asked, “Where are you right now?”
“I know I got to take it,” the woman said. “I don’t want to be faking it, getting a prescription and letting it sit there.”
Heard offered to travel with her to the doctor’s office. She looked down and realized their hands were still joined.
“I am holding your hands so you can feel what I am saying,” she told the woman.
“I don’t know no one in here like you,” the woman said back.
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