Remembering on World AIDS Day

A guest post by TikunOlam

People don't talk about AIDS the way they used to anymore. It is not the Humanitarian Cause of the Day. Perhaps because people are living longer lives with HIV/AIDS than they did in the 80s and 90s. Maybe it is because there are so many other causes such as the crisis in Darfur and the war against terrorism overshadowing the horror of HIV/AIDS.

When I was just starting out as a psychologist, I worked in a large medical center as a Staff Psychologist. Most of my referrals came from the Infectious Disease Department, so most of my patients were infected with HIV or already sick with AIDS. Every year, on World AIDS Day, the Infectious Disease Department would host a World AIDS Day program for the hospital and its patients. They would educate the attendees about preventing transmission of the disease, getting tested and going for treatment. They would also have a memorial service in which a candle was lit for each patient of the Infectious Disease Clinic who had died in the previous year. Every year some of my patients would die. Today, while I am thinking of them all, one patient stands out in my mind.

I was treating a woman with HIV. She was a former prostitute and drug addict who, with tremendous courage and hard work, became clean and sober when she found out that she was pregnant with her one and only child. Unfortunately, medicine not being what it is today, her child was born infected with HIV. My patient did everything she could to provide her daughter with the best life and medical care that she could. When I met my patient, her daughter was 6 years old. My patient was in relatively good health and her daughter's viral load was undetectable as she was on an effective medication regimen and her mother was vigilant about following the directions of the doctors. The little girl was absolutely adorable, the center of her mother's life.

About six months after I met my patient and her daughter, in a sick twist of fate, my patient's daughter was in a car accident. When she arrived by ambulance at the hospital's pediatric ICU, she was already brain dead. My patient asked me to sit with her in the PICU while she sat bedside with her daughter while her daughter was hooked up to assorted machines. My patient and I, along with some of her family members and other hospital staff held hands and said a prayer as we said goodbye to her little girl.

Today I remember my patient's courage and strength. Today I remember her little girl, who knew she had a disease, but didn't let it get in the way of being a happy, loving, little girl. Today I remember that the AIDS crisis is far from over and am hopeful that a day will come in which we have a cure.