How photography helped me live with aids

Lol234

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Hi, my name is Dave, and I have AIDS.

I grew up in a stereotypically strict Christian household in the state of Kentucky. Praying to God every Sunday. Praying to God before bed. Pa whipping you with the belt while you pray. Bible studies 24/7. You get the deal.

Pa would always get mad at you if he caught me and my 7 older brothers if our heads weren't sunk into the bible. I wasn't much of a reader, so I got into trouble a lot, spanking my behind until a bright red.

I always tried to sneak away by playing with a camera, my late Godmother (bless her soul) gave me for my birthday. I would take a snapshot of everything in front of me until I ran out of film. I felt like everything needed to be preserved, everything needed to be remembered, and I kept each photo that came out of that camera.

When I was older, I found out I was gay. I started stalking school boys stripping in their homes and took a bunch of creepshots that I would keep in my special drawers.

When I moved out of my home, I met my first boyfriend Dale. I met Dale at a gay bar and we grew a liking right away. I took a photo of us everywhere we went. At the bar, at the park, at home, in the shower. It was fun.

When we started fucking, we didn't use condoms, because I thought we was in a committed relationship, and I wasn't going to get pregnant anyways. But then one day I developed a cold, then my body began to shiver.

I thought it was a common cold, so I brushed it off, but it got worse the months along. It wasn't soon until I found out Dale was cheating on me and contracted AIDS without telling me. I was so devastated.

After we broke up, I cradled myself in bed, rolled myself up in the sheets, crying knowing that my life was over. I went to my doctor and his prognosis was that I would probably live for another 10-15 years.

10-15 years is still long time, but no time was long enough for me. During this time, I didn't feel like touching my camera, because I didn't want my last photos of me laying in bed wasting away.

It wasn't until I met my later boyfriend and later husband, Darrel, in an AIDS support group that he accepted me for who I was and encouraged me to start photographing again.

And so I did, and each day my smile grew bigger, and we did the same things together just like I did with Dale. Dale died of a heroin overdose in 1988. Darrel, my husband of only 5 years (boyfriend for 20), past away due to heart complications, and I was alone again. I still miss him. :,(

I'm 91 now. I lived longer than 10-15 years. I was only diagnosed when I was 27. To this day I wonder why I am still alive. But when I look back at these photographs and thinking about how much fun Darrel and I had together, I'm not sad. Because I think the reason I'm still alive is because of him. He gave his life to me so that I could live. He knew it was these photos that would save me.

So I pin up his pictures all over my home, and I continue to take pictures to this very day.
 

silvertriumph2

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I'm taking it that the 91 is a misprint? Since AIDS wasn't around back then.

Good story thanks for sharing @Lol234
I think he might have meant he was diagnosted at 72...instead of 27...since
AIDS did not appear utill the early 1980s to 1983.
Thank goodess the new medicines have made it possible for those who have
it can live a fairly normal life for many years.
David.djr....God Bless....
 
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Lol234

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I think he might have meant he was diagnosted at 72...instead of 27...since
AIDS did not appear utill the early 1980s to 1983.
Thank goodess the new medicines have made it possible for those who have
it can live a fairly normal life for many years.
David.djr....God Bless....

You guys do realize what forum section this is right?