Not Dead. Good

Guinea Pig and all... It seems the experimental route turned out to be beneficial for yours truly. We will not be posting from the great golden (or fiery) beyond in the near future - barring any bus mishaps.

After a month of grueling acclimation to the new regimen and a myriad of maladies that had us fairly well convinced we would only just outlast Jerry Falwell in the Dead Pool, the reports are in, the effects are waning, and we are about ready to climb back on the proverbial horse. AIDS will not get us this week.

Fevers pushing 105 degrees, digestive difficulty at both ends of the tract, insides that felt charred, a mind that betrayed us on occasion, malaise well-documented, fatigue indescribable, and even a hint of depression all made our acquaintance here in the "office" over the last few weeks. But thanks to the good judgement of the medical community and a God we have not sufficiently offended (yet), we have emerged on the other side with nothing but good news.

The Virus is once again undetectable in the blood stream. The fevers and aforementioned issues were simple evidence of a body doing unholy battle against invaders new and familiar. Steroids became part of our lexicon as we actually had to apply the brakes to our newly revved immune system. When the latter started to play with our mind, we called a halt to that portion of the handful of pills and began a step-down program that will play out over the next month. The fevers have all but abated, the appetite has returned with a vengeance, energy is rushing back in at the most inopportune times (3 a.m, 4 a.m., etc.) and everyone on the clinical side of the team is thrilled with the results. We considered getting fitted for appropriate burial garments on at least one occasion. The best laid plans, as they say....

The goal of aggressive treatment in people with HIV and AIDS is to see a reduction in the amount of virus to an undetectable (though not non-existent) level within 3-6 months. We crossed that hurdle just shy of the first month. Over-achieving has always been something of a knack for us. Unless, of course, we're talking about anything mechanical or interpersonal - then we defer to those with a much more convincing resume of achievement.

Thanks goes to our beloved physician, for whom we will not shill. He makes his money. But he also knows it's a price well-paid in our opinion. The other medical staff, legion of family, those who brought spaghetti and watermelon and all manner of potato products (the only food that we would eat for days), our "Aidsy Group" in The City who manages to make the most abnormal physical experience seem not that remarkable or frightening, and What's Her Name in NYC for providing much needed distraction and being a lightning rod for nastiness when it was needed all get our public, though anonymous, gratitude.

And not least of all, we thank that faithful handful of blog-readers who nudge occasionally and let us know that whatever the hell we're saying, someone is listening. And that's what life on the Big Blue Ball is really about, isn't it? Just knowing somebody heard you.

The bounce back is in full swing. Who knows? By the time we turn the page on another age in a couple of weeks, we may be stronger than ever and more sharp-tongued than one would wish. But we'll be here. Plans are in the works for an international edition of After Therapy. We're researching with our crack staff the logistics of lodging in Greece for part of the winter. We would look forward to posting from the Aegean paradise for a number of weeks. It's been something we've long thought to do and never got around to realizing.

So on we go. The future is unknowable, but at least we can plan to be flapping our gums in the midst of the most immediate part of it. And that's enough for today.

Tom