Why Not?

I commented on a post recently and received an incredibly kind personal response to it that has stayed with me, popping up every other day to nag and say, "blog about it"...so here goes.

I was 23 when I found out I was HIV positive. I was sure I would be dead well before 30.

I am now 39 and still fighting the good fight. During a powerful conversation a few months ago, Soccer Mom thanked me (through tears, albeit) for not giving up. I don't have a choice, surrounded by the strong women in my life who'd kick my ass if I did give up, or even show signs of starting to.

I can't think of it as totals...not in numbers of doctors visits, or vials of blood drawn, or hundreds of thousands of dollars worth of pills swallowed, or sleepless nights, or crying jags, or friends who lost the battle.

It's the years that come to me, piling up their profound weight and simply not going away. 16 years. Whether I want to or not, every July 9, my brain reminds me, "This is the day they told your life has changed forever." I do not recall much of my adult life not thinking about this. That changes a guy for good. Maybe not for the better, but certainly For Good.

So, the response I got from commenting on that post was this:

16 years is a long time.
not long enough.
go 16 more.
then 16 more.

sure. why not.

Someone who didn't know me had summed up in words I never would have found just exactly how I deal with every day of my life. Thank you, Daniel.

And you know what? Why not?