One Man's Story

(The following is an account of one of our Friends and what Friends for Life has meant to him.)

About seven years ago, while hospitalized, my doctor walked into my hospital room and told me that he had some bad news for me. I sat up in bed and braced myself for what would be some of the most terrifying words I had ever heard. "Well doc!", I said, "Give it to me!." "You have AIDS", he blurted out. The words came at me like a ton of bricks falling off a building, and I'm standing on the street below. Everything was moving in slow motion, except for me; I was standing there frozen in time.

Later that day my mom came to visit, and I had to give her the news. I told her that my doctor had given me some really bad news, and I needed for her to sit down. She chose to stand up, and she asked me, "Do you have cancer"? I answered, "No!" "Is it the other one," she asked. "What other one?" I asked. But she couldn't say the word. I paused, and then said "yes mom, I have AIDS." By this time she already knew the answer to her question, she was already crying, and when I saw my mom crying, my world caved in, and I went into silent mode for a long time.

About one week later, I went to the doctor's office to discuss the matter of me starting a regiment for my newly diagnosed condition. I was surprisingly calm at this point, but when my name was called to see the doctor, the bricks finally landed, and I freaked out and experienced my first ever mental break down. My world changed for the worst. Mentally I became a shamble, and physically I became numb to everyone and everything around me.

Before my diagnosis, I always considered myself to be a well-rounded, friendly, jolly, and fun-loving person. Post-diagnosis, I was no longer the well rounded person, but a broken person I didn't know. Instead of jolly, I became distant. The fun-loving person became very guarded. I was broken, or as I told many people, "I'm damaged goods." In a very short time, my physical ailment had become more and more troublesome, and my doctor suggested that I apply for disability. I felt like all my independence had been taken away from me. At this point I felt like I had failed myself, failed my family, and failed my life as I knew it.

I was asked if I would consider joining a self-help group, where I could sit with my peers and talk about our daily troubles, our ups and our downs, our good days, our bad days, our trials, our tribulations— you know, our daily lives living with HIV/AIDS.

After a couple of meetings, I came to realize that groups didn't work for me. And please, don't get me wrong, "it didn't work for me" doesn't mean it was a bad group. In fact, it was, and still is a great group, very informative, and with a great group of people. I just wasn't a person who felt comfortable sitting among others, opening up my thoughts and leaving myself vulnerable to people that I didn't know.

I was then told by a counselor that I should check out another program by the name of Friends for Life. My first impression was "this is not gonna work either", but I knew at that point in my life, something had to give. I had to share myself, I was holding too much in, I had to be part of something, something bigger than my thoughts. I was totally consumed by the thoughts of my life being over, and that I was worthless and would never experience love, self worth, or independence ever again. It turned out that wasn't the case at all.

When I met Nelson Riviera, the Director for Friends For Life, he was one of the most genuine and sincere persons I had ever meet, and still today he remains a very close and dear friend in my life. He explained to me that I didn't have to share if I didn't want to, but that sharing always help, and that Friends for Life was a safe haven for people like me, a person living with HIV/AIDS, and that if ever I was ready to share my thoughts, he would be there for me, and so he was.

The program provided me with weekly counseling sessions with Mario and massages with Michael, who has the most amazing hands. They also provided the clients with pantry, transportation, outings and social events. They also directed the clients to a number of outlets where we could get information and other needs to benefit us with our daily lives if and when needed.

As time went by I became more and more comfortable and was able to open up my thoughts and express myself once again. At some point, I expressed to Nelson that I needed to give back in some way. The program had done so much for me and I needed to show my gratitude and appreciation. He knew from previous conversations that I enjoy cooking, and asked me if I would mind cooking once in a while. I got great responses from the clients, the staff and other people who have visited the program. Needless to say, I've been cooking ever since. Little as it is, it made me feel like I am worth something again.

The point of this story is to allow you to understand for the past seven years, a greater part of me was lost, if not devastated. If wasn't for Friends for Life and programs associated with Friends for Life, I would be a lost cause. These programs offer a variety of valuable information for many aspects of our daily lives, but moreover, they offer a sense of belonging to a social community. For this I must give thanks to the following people:

Nelson Riviera - director of FRIEND FOR LIFE, friend and mentor
Steve Scheuermann - director of BUDDIES OF NEW JERSEY and still owes me a belt
Mario Edigosin - the man who knows every aspect of my life
Bill Murray - who keeps me in check and stays on top of information distributions
The entire staff of Friends For Life and Buddies of New Jersey

I cannot thank everyone enough for giving me back substance and meaning in my life.