I was browsing through some blogs (
Defining David) today and was reminded that today is World Aids Day and decided to repost from something I wrote from my
old site. Here it is:
Sunday, October 17, 2004 :
Dedicated to RichardThis morning I awoke to the sound of a public "happening" in West Hollywood in the vicinity of the Pacific Design Center. My condo has a view of the Design Center and when WEHO has events like Gay Pride, Halloween, etc., I can hear the bands and the crowds.
Today was
2004 Aids Walk Los Angeles. I was reminded of the Walk when I heard the noise. I decided I wanted to go down and check out the event.
It rained all night last night here in Los Angeles. A big deal since it's the first rain we've had in six months. So the air was clean and fresh, and the sun was beginning to pop out to greet all the Walkers.
It was an hour after the start of the walk, but I decided to sign up anyway and I caught up with the crowds. I dedicated my first Aids Walk ever to my ex-roommate Richard. The last time I even came close to walking in an Aids walk was about seven years ago when I met the guy who ended up being a con man and a thief. He stole all the donations I had collected for the Walk and I ended up not doing it.
Today was my first walk. Dedicated to Richard.
Richard was one of many who applied to my
want ad in the San Francisco papers asking for a "House Boy." I had just come out of the closet, got a high paying job in San Francisco and was living in a huge flat overlooking the famous Castro. I was looking for a "house boy" who would clean, cook and watch my cat while I traveled for work, in exchange for free rent. I said "no sex required" since often the connotation of a house boy was that sex was part of the deal. The person would have their own room, but we'd share a bathroom. The place was a 2 story "five room" old Victorian right across from the bar the Midnight Sun.
The deal with the ad was that all candidates had to reply to the ad to a post office box I set up and write a letter explaining why they wanted the job and include a picture.
I could dedicate a whole post just to the responses!
But this post is dedicated to Richard.
Richard got the job. He was very sweet, and felt awkward not paying any rent so eventually offered to do so. I accepted and ended up with a roommate who paid rent AND cleaned and cooked! And he and Kitty got along fine.
I remember well when Richard suddenly got very sick. It was a December right before my annual trip to Puerta Vallarta Mexico. He had gotten pneumonia and was home recovering. He said he was feeling better and so I thought nothing of it, and went to Mexico. When I returned he was still sick, and worse. I was concerned about HIV, and asked if he was tested, and he said no. I insisted he must get tested! He said he would when he next saw his "doctor." Well he ended up
walking to see his doctor and his doctor said he'd "be fine" and gave him some medication. That night I heard Richard calling out to me from his room in the middle of the night. He could hardly breathe. He asked me to call 911. I did. They came. They asked me if he was HIV positive and I told them I did not know. They took him away.
A few hours later, at dawn, I went to see him at the hospital. He was in intensive care on a breathing machine. His lung had collapsed. Probably from the long walk to see his doctor -- the doctor who said he "did not need an HIV test" and the doctor who let him walk, and the doctor who said he'd be fine.
Richard insisted we not tell his mother or family he was in the hospital. He did not want them to worry about him. I insisted he get tested for HIV. Of course the medical staff had in mind to do just that. The test came back positive. He was not only positive but had a very advanced case of HIV. He'd had it for a very long time. And now he was very sick.
Over the course of the next several days he ended up having I think 2 surgeries on his lungs. To plug up the holes that were forming on them. No success. They would not be able to remove him from the lung machine until he healed. And it did not look like he would heal.
By now the doctors insisted that he let his family know what was going on. He was sick with HIV and it looked like he was going to die. Richard did not want the nurse to call his mom, so he asked me to do it. I told her that her son was in the hospital, that he had AIDS and that he may be dying. You should come to see him.
And of course she did. As well as the two sisters. They all stayed in my place during the ordeal. And through all this my "ex" thief lover-friend was with us and staying with us. Richard's mom, even aware of all the problems we'd been having, said she thought we should be together. She could "tell" that we both loved each other very much.
The day before Richard died he told me he saw angels. He saw little children running happily around his bed while he lay there in the hospital. He told me these things by writing them down on paper, since he could not talk with the tubes running down his throat. During his "last days" only his mom and I were allowed in his room. The stress from other family members, especially his estranged father, was too much for him.
The day Richard died the doctors called me and his mom in to his room. Richard had made the decision to "pull the plugs" and die. His mind was very coherent and he was well aware of the decision he was making. The doctors wanted to make sure that his mom and I concurred with the decision.
Ah JEEZ! I'm thinking "I'm just the guy's room mate for Christ's sake!" How did I achieve the status of a dying gay man's lover? I thought that for a split second and then became overwhelming aware of what a privilidge, what an amazing thing it was, to experience this.
"Yes" I said, I concur that we should "pull the plug," and I told Richard that I loved him and hugged him. He mouthed back to me "I love you too." I said I did not think I should be in the room when they did it, that was something that should be reserved for his mother. They agreed.
I left the room and stopped in the hallway between where his room was in intensive care and where the rest of the family was waiting, and began to sob. A very kind doctor stopped to see if I would be okay. My ex walked in and put his arms around me. I was balling. I had just said goodbye to my roommate for the last time and in minutes he would be dead.
I was in the closet and celibate during the worst of the Aids epidemic. I did not experience ANY friends who got sick and died. Richard was the first person I knew who had AIDS and died.
The family was not intending to have a service and I felt bad about that. His friends at work and elsewhere did not even know what was going on and they would need some closure to this sudden death.
So I volunteered to organize a memorial service for Richard. His place of work, a famous restaurant overlooking the Bay in Fisherman's Wharf, offered up a free banquet room and food service for the memorial. It was a perfect location since many of his friends and coworkers could come to the service.
Lot's of people said lots of nice things and it was very touching. It was especially nice that Richard's mother could hear all the nice things people said. It gave her a glimpse into the life of her only son that she did not have before.
Richard's mom held up amazingly well during all this. She never once cried. She seemed almost unemotional. But after the service, and as I escorted her out of the restaurant, she broke down. She said "did you feel that just now?" It was Richard who just brushed by us. I had to admit I did feel it. We both did. We got outside and she broke down. Began sobbing for the first time. I held her.
That is about the last of what I remember about Richard's death from AIDS. His mother "adopted" me as her second son, but over time the level of our communications has dwindled.
Today I walked in AIDS Walk 2004 - Los Angeles. I dedicated it to
Richard.
I love you Richard
