There has to be another way

It was this one time that I was in denial about having HIV, they said.

See me, I am the type of person who will bear as much pain possible before I pop a pill.

Not even an ibuprofen.

This is because I have this HUGE fear of becoming addicted to these low-grade drugs and then BOOM! I’m addicted to percs.

Nope. Not me. Ain’t going to happen. I will just stay in pain and call upon my ancestors for help.

Random tidbit: When I’m going through it, I try and envision how my ancestors managed. They say there is nothing new under the sun. So how did they do it?

Like they didn’t have Google Maps to guide them as they were running away for their lives. And they sure as hell didn’t have WebMD to self diagnose.

But they made it. And so can I.

I come from greatness. Kings and Queens and shit. What’s a HIV?

They say it’s the human immunodeficiency virus.


“Immuno”. They must just mean immune. 🙄

And I already know what “deficient” means. That’s means I ain’t got enough.

My literal translation:

This human doesn’t have enough immune(ity).

Cool. I can do this. They got these immune boosting pills at the pharmacy.

So I grabbed me a couple bottles and took one everyday. Boosting my immune system up and what not. Or so I thought.

But I had to. Cus at this point, I was working with these little kids in the classroom and they were infamous for holding onto germs like pets. Naming them and shit.

Every morning I popped an immune booster, prayed that one of them little scalawags didn’t get me sick, and then went on bout my business.

… until a doctor’s appointment came back around and we had to check my numbers and whatever.

T-cells: down.

Viral load: off the chain. And not in a good way. I mean, that jawn sounded like the number of miles on a 1993 Geo Metro.

Ard. Cool.

I still didn’t want none of THEIR medicine.

So then I kicked it up a notch. I ended up frequenting this one herbal store faithfully every month to go rack up on a $49.99 supply of some herb that I couldn’t even pronounce.

But I trusted this lady. She looked real in-tune with Earth. Like one of those vegan, yoga ladies. She had a book of herbs that she combed through with ease – so she just had to know what she was doing.

And she might have, but her way of healing didn’t work for me. 😩

So now, I’m back in the doctor’s office and my T-cells were looking suh-add (sad)!

I mean, picture checking your credit score and that shit done plummeted a few tens groups from the last time you checked it.

That mess hurts!

Credit. You can fix.

T-cells. Where you gone get them from?

Medicine. That’s where. Their medicine.

Tip: Remember less than 200 T-cells is an AIDS diagnosis. This is because with T-cells that low, you are in a danger zone putting yourself at risk for opportunistic infections.

Damn. They got me. So now I’m stuck popping this big ole pill once a day – so I can live.

It was denial, they said.

It was denial that had me trying all these other routes before I would succumb to their mystery concoction of a pill.

I don’t know if I necessarily believe that but here I am.

What not to do: Do NOT take any medical advice from this or any other post I write. I just be doing shit.

Here goes the “perception is key” plot twist:

Thank God that they have this pill here for me to take because Dr. Sebi done fucked around and died on me.

+ Ci Ci +