Ruben Acosta’s Body Politic

I’ve noticed a lot of my phone calls lately start out with, “I apologize for not getting back to you sooner,” or “Hey, you were on my list of people to call back.” It seems I’m spending a lot of time getting back to people. Today my list of things to do is all about refilling my prescriptions, rescheduling another meeting, and returning phone calls.

People get on my list for different reasons. For instance, when my dentist asks if I can “come back next Tuesday for a root canal,” I’ll say, “I need to check my calendar and get back to you.” Now the dentist goes on my list. My hope is that I’ll find or come up with something that I’d enjoy better then getting a root canal, like a tax audit or a bitter-melon enema. 

In 1991 I took the HIV test. Back then it took two weeks for them to get back to you with the results. The girl sitting behind the Plexiglas window at the anonymous test site handed me a clipboard, requested that I fill out the paperwork, then instructed me to take my seat and someone would get back to me. It’s one thing to be waiting for someone you know to get back to you, but this was like waiting for the cable guy to show up sometime between 8 and 5. In between her chewing and snapping her Juicy Fruit gum, she also asked me for my secret code.

The secret code. Two letters and two numbers that served as a buffer between my test results being a secret and God and everyone knowing that I was infected. I’m not very good at brain teasers, like where you have seven toothpicks and you’re supposed to move them around to form a diamond but only using a continuous line. I’ve never worked out a Rubik’s Cube, and it took me a while to figure it out why they call it “69.” But two numbers and two letters, how hard can that be?

I thought about using my initials, but that was too traceable. I wondered if that’s what they wanted. Was that their plan all along? Is that how they were planning on getting my HIV status? Well, I wasn’t going to fall into that trap. I considered using my son’s or daughter’s initials, but that seemed a little morbid. My son started walking at ten months, and my daughter was six when she learned how to ride her bike without training wheels, but somehow using 6 and 10 as my secret code just didn’t seem very parental. I could tell the gum chewer was running out of patience and flavor, so I continued working on my secret code.

I’d just got into recovery and thought about using AA or NA, but it turned out that those were also my kids’ initials. It felt like I was having one of those “spiritual awakenings” I’d heard people share about in meetings. I wanted to call my sponsor, but I was still waiting for him to get back to me from my last voicemail.

The girl behind the Plexiglas reminded me that all I had to do was come up with two letters and two numbers.

“Everyone who gets tested has to have a secret code,” she said. Then, it hit me. Maybe everyone is having the same problem with this secret code that I’m struggling with. Could it be that we’re not all infected? Maybe we just all have the same secret code.

If I thought coming up with a code was difficult, the two weeks wait for my results was like needing a blood transfusion and being in the emergency room with a bunch of Jehovah’s Witnesses. It seemed like I was in the middle of this ping pong game that was taking place in my head— “I’m infected” versus “I can’t be infected.” It was the worst two weeks of my life.

Today we have the OraQuick Rapid HIV-1 Antibody Test to check for HIV-1, the virus that causes AIDS, in a person’s blood. The test detects antibodies to HIV-1 found in blood specimens obtained by fingerstick or venipuncture. Results of the test can be read in as little as twenty minutes.

James Baldwin wrote: “Not everything that is faced can be changed, but nothing can be changed until it is faced.” Being able to know your HIV status provides us the opportunity to move towards facing the fears, challenges, and options of living with HIV/AIDS. Hopefully, now more people will take advantage of these advanced technologies and get tested. It still is better to know. Only now you can know sooner, so you can get back to something great—like living.

Ruben Acosta is Director of HIV/AIDS Prevention & Education Services for the Los Angeles Centers for Alcohol and Drug Abuse. He can be reached at txjivetalk@aol.com.

May 2004