THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1996, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: Saturday, October 12, 1996 TAG: 9610120279
SECTION: LOCAL PAGE: B1 EDITION: NORTH CAROLINA
TYPE: OPINION
SOURCE: Anne Saita
LENGTH: 80 lines
Last weekend I touched a person with AIDS.
He was wearing a nice knit sweater and a white bandage behind his ear. I couldn't help but notice one of his pant legs had caught on his sock.
He had just told a large group of us how his life had changed since he was first diagnosed with the HIV virus two years ago. It was discovered after a self-diagnosed case of poison oak turned out to be shingles.
Boils and abscesses became a problem. Eventually he realized he would someday need help with ``everyday living'' and asked to move back with his father and brothers. He knew a lot of AIDS and HIV-infected people are rejected by their families, but his even-tempered father took him in with little comment.
Despite all the things he had lost, like his home, or was losing, like his health, he emphasized last weekend in a talk in a Raleigh church that he was living with AIDS, not dying from it.
Afterward, I wanted to join a crowd of well-wishers extending their hands to shake his. But the closer I got to the man, the more people who came between us.
I gave up after a few minutes and instead gently squeezed his arm as I passed beside him. I'm not sure he noticed with all the other attention. Another woman wanted to touch him too, but she had a cold and instead sent a kind note that made him smile.
People typically don't rush to embrace someone with AIDS. But, then again, the 60 or so people with me in Raleigh are not typical. We are part of an ecumenical network that provides compassionate, nonjudgmental care to people who have the virus that causes AIDS.
Over the weekend we laughed and cried as people from different walks of life shared their stories and offered advice. We learned about loss and grief, since these emotions are part of the job we've agreed to undertake.
It's difficult to pin down just how many people in the country, or even in a county, are HIV-positive or have progressed to full-blown AIDS. As best I can figure, at least a half-million AIDS cases have been documented in the United States since 1981. That's according to the Centers for Disease Control's National AIDS Hot line in North Carolina.
Some 6,500 people have been diagnosed in North Carolina since 1990, said an epidemiologist for the North Carolina HIV/STD Control Section. STD stands for sexually transmitted diseases.
Albemarle-area health officials estimate that between 50 and 100 people here have tested positive for HIV since 1985. Those numbers may be higher because some people, scared the results may leak out locally, are tested in nearby Hampton Roads.
Although homosexual men still represent the largest group infected with the HIV virus nationwide, the disease is most rapidly spreading among women, teen-agers and heterosexuals, the CDC said.
The disease is spread through blood, semen, vaginal secretions and breast milk. It weakens the body's immune system, making it difficult to fight off cancers, pneumonia and other life-threatening infections.
AIDS Care Teams, trained groups of citizens, try to meet the spiritual, emotional and practical needs of AIDS patients and their families. It may mean a weekly phone call, a ride to a clinic, light housekeeping or a hot meal. AIDS Care Teams are growing in urban areas of North Carolina, particularly Charlotte and Raleigh-Durham, which have the highest number of documented AIDS cases in the state.
Perhaps encouraged by the trend, Sister Audrey Recktenwald, then with Catholic Social Ministries in Hertford, invited more than 100 churches in northeastern North Carolina to form care teams earlier this year. Only one church, in Elizabeth City, responded.
Even more discouraging, from my perspective, is the number of people with AIDS or HIV who do not seem to want the help. Our care team has existed since June, and we've yet to be paired with an AIDS ``partner.''
Maybe those that would welcome our assistance and friendship are worried that we'll preach or promote our church's beliefs. We won't.
Maybe they fear further ostracism for having a disease that still carries a huge social stigma. They shouldn't.
They have more supporters than they may realize.
Today thousands will march through our nation's capital in support of AIDS victims and the need for more research. Many of those marchers have lost a husband, wife, father, mother, daughter or son to AIDS. Others fear they'll soon be dealing with the disease and hope a cure is found.
I won't be there, but I'm sure there will be a few like me, too, who have been touched by people they may not know but desperately want to help. by CNB