After my HIV test results came out positive I decided to repress any feelings of concern about it and I stayed in a state of non-acceptance. As long as I wasn’t dead I needn’t worry about it. I was going to live a care free life, nobody was going to convince me otherwise, and I believed that life was only lived once.
Since that day I slept and dreamt about escaping from Rehab. During the following weekend trip to attend AA, I faked attending a session and absconded from rehab.
After I left the rehab I found a close friend who we celebrated my successful escape with free alcohol which he bought me. The following day I staggered home to face the full fury of my parents. My father gave me a tough speech about responsibility. I could feel how hard he was restraining himself from striking me. My poor mother just broke down in tears; she refused to talk to me. In the end, my parents resolved to withdraw themselves from my life. They would no longer give me money or communicate with me. They also kicked me out of their house, I moved in happily in one of my friend’s house.
True to their words, my parents ignored me for quiet sometime. This only fed the rebellion and anger within me and I drunk myself to stupors and blackouts. I had also resumed using cannabis to calm the racing thoughts I experienced especially when I was sober. I was constantly broke due to the fact my money supply ran dry so I began to sell the valuable objects I owned. It included watches, utensils, furniture, electronics and other things I could spare for a good smoke and drink.
My peddler began selling me weed “joints” which felt so much better than the usual. I later came to know they were laced with heroine. I did not mind because it made my “joints” so much sweeter. Soon I began smoking weed ferociously because the high had become insatiable.
After a month living carelessly, I found myself facing a new predicament. One of my casual girlfriends had gotten pregnant and was demanding that I take responsibility. I completely ignored her demands and kept on doing what I do best, do more drugs and drink. One time during a random drinking spree, I was mobbed by the pregnant girl and several of her friends. From my vague recollections about the women I had dated, I must have had a sexual encounter with each one of them. They confronted me about intentionally attempting to infect them and they demanded that I be lynched. I was mercilessly kicked and whipped around by the angry women and a few men that supported them. By some merciful grace there were policemen at the venue, they saved me from a possible end.
I spent a week under police custody for my own protection. I was a wanted man, but I was not remorseful for what I did. While in the cells withdrawal symptoms drove me partially psychotic. I was not eating and my health deteriorated dramatically. This forced the police to call in my parents and have me rushed to the hospital when I finally succumbed to the severe withdrawals symptoms.
While in hospital, my parents got to learn about my HIV status, they were devastated by the fact I had never told them. I was still not willing to accept the diagnosis but the state of my health compelled that I was put on treatment for HIV. I began a care program for HIV and I was put on medications. I also got a psychiatrist who diagnosed me with Bipolar and Adhd. In addition I was assigned a counselor to help me begin on addiction counseling again and management of the bipolar and ADHD. On the other side my parents went out of their way and found the girl I had impregnated and struck a deal with her. They promised to take care of her needs and the unborn child. I went back home and promised to be good. I stuck to the hospital program well. I saw my psychiatrist and counselor as recommended. In addition I attended my HIV clinic regularly as prescribed. The plan was to get me better enough to attend rehab.
After three weeks of consistency I began to feel better and my health was reinstating itself. I began to secretly meet my drinking friends to drink a few drinks as we watched football matches. I felt it was not harmful as long as I was taking all my medications right. When time came to go to Rehab, i convinced my parents that I was doing completely well and I dint need rehab. They were very pleased with me and even gave me “upkeep” money.
A month went by and I became bored with the sessions, I reduced the number of times I saw my counselor and I stopped taking the Bipolar and ADHD medication. As a result of the above my parents thought it wise I joined college as a means to keep me occupied. I was always interested in graphic design so I enrolled in a college in town that offered that course. My first few weeks were exciting in college especially meeting new people and learning new things. But soon I began to get engaged with friends that enjoyed partying as a hobby. Almost all evenings after class were spent in clubs, either drinking or smoking. Because of this, I ruined my HIV medicine routine.
By the end of the first semester in college, I had missed several days of classes and I had failed every course. My parents were not happy with me and they threatened to have me shipped off to our country home because they could no longer control me. Things were not looking good. I had become unmanageable and my health was deteriorating again. One day a school mate invited me to a special party. He told me that he was going to show me something new that I would enjoy. When we arrived at the place, he removed a little package that contained a powder. He prepared it and had us shoot it up our arms with needles. It was my first experience injecting drugs into my body. I felt afraid but excited about the upcoming high. I immediately fell unconscious with the needle still in my arm.
A few days later I woke up in the ICU, Surrounded by my parents and relatives. They told me that I almost died. Later my doctor told me that I had injected a lethal dose of heroin into my body and it had sent me into a coma. I fell into utter shock, I should have been dead! I knew finally the universe had taught me my lesson. I felt afraid for my life for the first time. I need help I thought to myself, this time I was honest to myself. I was powerless.