Read Online Ryan White - My Own Story by Ryan & Cunningham White - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Ryan & Cunningham White
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Kleiman says so, you can come home,” Mom said. “You’re getting over your pneumonia.”
That left only one question. I took a deep breath.
“Am I going to die?” My voice came out steady, not squeaky. That was some relief.
“We’re all going to die someday,” Mom answered, just as steadily. “We just don’t know when.”
I thought a minute. So what was the big deal about AIDS? I was a hemophiliac, so I already had my limits. But I’d been having an okay time, anyway. I certainly wasn’t about to die yet. Why not just get back to being a normal kid?
“Tell you what, Mom,” I said. “Let’s just pretend I don’t have AIDS.”
“Ryan, we can’t,” Mom protested. “We’re going to have to take precautions, make sure you don’t get any sicker.”
“Mom, you don’t understand!” Andrea came to my rescue. “You don’t see what Ryan means.”
“I just don’t want everybody feeling sorry for me and thinking ‘Poor little Ryan, he’s dying.’ I just want to make believe I don’t have AIDS and do what I want to do. Like, I want a dog.”
“Dr. Kleiman says we shouldn’t have any animals,” Mom said.
No way I was going to give away Herbie, my hamster. Herbie lived in my room at home, and I missed him every day.
“I want my own dog, Mom. I don’t care if he takes six months off my life. I want that dog to like only me. Nobody else feeds him—nobody else has anything to do with him. I just want him to come to me.”
I think our minister was afraid Mom and I were getting into a fight. “Ryan, can we all say a prayer together?” he broke in.
“Sure,” I said. I listened to the others with half an ear, adding my own prayer for a pup. And just the way I always did, I said thank you to God for another day of life, and asked for one more. Lord, please let me live—go back to school, see my friends again.
T HE DAYS dragged on by, the way the days after Christmas tend to do, especially when you’re in the hospital. I began to find out what having AIDS and a weakened immune system really means. Some people are HIV positive. When they are tested to see if they are infected with the AIDS virus, they test positive. But they have no symptoms yet. Some people have mild symptoms. Sometimes doctors say they have ARC, or AIDS related complex. But some people have many symptoms. They have full-blown AIDS. I was one of them.
When you have full-blown AIDS, you don’t pick up every cold and flu that other people have. AIDS doesn’t seem to work that way. It’s as though your immune system is going up and down. When it’s weak, you can catch certain odd illnesses that don’t bother most other folks. For instance, I still had chronic diarrhea—ever since the summer. Dr. Kleiman said I got it from a parasite that your digestive tract usually kills off for you—unless you have AIDS. Same with my pneumonia—it was a very unusual kind that mostly hits AIDS patients. If you come down with pneumocystis pneumonia, it’s a very big clue that you have AIDS too.
Just as my pneumonia was beginning to clear up, I got thrush. It means you have a yeast infection—that’s the kind of organism that makes bread rise. But inside your body, yeast is not so pleasant. I developed funny-tasting white patches inside my mouth and had to rinse with some truly vile liquid medication to prevent it from spreading. I was supposed to swallow the stuff, but I also had herpes in my throat, which made it incredibly sore—far worse than any normal sore throat. I didn’t want to swallow a thing.
Anyhow, AIDS takes away your appetite. It does weird things to your sense of taste and smell. Even your favorite foods smell repulsive—or your first mouthful will taste fine, and then your next one is like eating paste. Mostly I lived on sodas.
I’ve always been a real picky eater—long before AIDS. Don’t come near me with a lukewarm Coke, or one that’s been sitting open in the refrigerator for half a day. Because Riley
That left only one question. I took a deep breath.
“Am I going to die?” My voice came out steady, not squeaky. That was some relief.
“We’re all going to die someday,” Mom answered, just as steadily. “We just don’t know when.”
I thought a minute. So what was the big deal about AIDS? I was a hemophiliac, so I already had my limits. But I’d been having an okay time, anyway. I certainly wasn’t about to die yet. Why not just get back to being a normal kid?
“Tell you what, Mom,” I said. “Let’s just pretend I don’t have AIDS.”
“Ryan, we can’t,” Mom protested. “We’re going to have to take precautions, make sure you don’t get any sicker.”
“Mom, you don’t understand!” Andrea came to my rescue. “You don’t see what Ryan means.”
“I just don’t want everybody feeling sorry for me and thinking ‘Poor little Ryan, he’s dying.’ I just want to make believe I don’t have AIDS and do what I want to do. Like, I want a dog.”
“Dr. Kleiman says we shouldn’t have any animals,” Mom said.
No way I was going to give away Herbie, my hamster. Herbie lived in my room at home, and I missed him every day.
“I want my own dog, Mom. I don’t care if he takes six months off my life. I want that dog to like only me. Nobody else feeds him—nobody else has anything to do with him. I just want him to come to me.”
I think our minister was afraid Mom and I were getting into a fight. “Ryan, can we all say a prayer together?” he broke in.
“Sure,” I said. I listened to the others with half an ear, adding my own prayer for a pup. And just the way I always did, I said thank you to God for another day of life, and asked for one more. Lord, please let me live—go back to school, see my friends again.
T HE DAYS dragged on by, the way the days after Christmas tend to do, especially when you’re in the hospital. I began to find out what having AIDS and a weakened immune system really means. Some people are HIV positive. When they are tested to see if they are infected with the AIDS virus, they test positive. But they have no symptoms yet. Some people have mild symptoms. Sometimes doctors say they have ARC, or AIDS related complex. But some people have many symptoms. They have full-blown AIDS. I was one of them.
When you have full-blown AIDS, you don’t pick up every cold and flu that other people have. AIDS doesn’t seem to work that way. It’s as though your immune system is going up and down. When it’s weak, you can catch certain odd illnesses that don’t bother most other folks. For instance, I still had chronic diarrhea—ever since the summer. Dr. Kleiman said I got it from a parasite that your digestive tract usually kills off for you—unless you have AIDS. Same with my pneumonia—it was a very unusual kind that mostly hits AIDS patients. If you come down with pneumocystis pneumonia, it’s a very big clue that you have AIDS too.
Just as my pneumonia was beginning to clear up, I got thrush. It means you have a yeast infection—that’s the kind of organism that makes bread rise. But inside your body, yeast is not so pleasant. I developed funny-tasting white patches inside my mouth and had to rinse with some truly vile liquid medication to prevent it from spreading. I was supposed to swallow the stuff, but I also had herpes in my throat, which made it incredibly sore—far worse than any normal sore throat. I didn’t want to swallow a thing.
Anyhow, AIDS takes away your appetite. It does weird things to your sense of taste and smell. Even your favorite foods smell repulsive—or your first mouthful will taste fine, and then your next one is like eating paste. Mostly I lived on sodas.
I’ve always been a real picky eater—long before AIDS. Don’t come near me with a lukewarm Coke, or one that’s been sitting open in the refrigerator for half a day. Because Riley
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