In general I love a good box. Well constructed, made of a sturdy material, designed to hold my crap. Simple. Elegant. Cardboard, plastic, metal. Big, small, other. Doesn’t really matter. Add a cool lid (like the ones that have the interlocking tops to make them stackable) and it’s even better.

Maybe I just love the organization factor. It’s my anal-retentive nature, I suppose.

But then there are other boxes. Like Pandora’s.

And as a place to store your “music preferences” is about as cool as it gets. Now, I’m not one to just link to tell you where to visit (especially since I have a readership of like, um, nothing). But this is WAY too cool!

Put in your favorite artist… hear a song by them to start… then move onto simliar things recommended by the music genome project. I could be here for days.

I probably will.

nothing like a good friend to smack you upside your head

I shared my recent news with a really good friend yesterday. I was lamenting about how this was going to affect the whole family and that it was a lot to deal with. I basically said I didn’t know how to handle this and what I should do.

It took her all of about 30 seconds to say “it’s not about you.”

Well, no kidding… I know/knew that. But the reminder was very important to hear.

Thanks, C.

the aftermath

So it’s T-cell+1 (sorry, bad joke, but that’s about all I’m capable of at the moment). I have now had a single day to digest the facts about what might happen to my family member. I feel no closer to any kind of conclusion than I did yesterday at this time. Which really sucks.

But here’s what I know. I know that HIV can kill quickly if not taken care of. And while this family member, in their heart, believes that they’ll live 10-15 years with the virus, the truth is that I don’t think they have the responsibility level necessary to stay on the drug therapies and do the required acts necessary to prolong your life that long.

First, they are already an addict… and additional medications will wreak havoc with their social playtime. In fact, they currently don’t take the required meds for their other medical maladies because it intereferes with the high. Which means that even if they were OPEN to the idea of taking the cocktails, they simply won’t do it.

Second, if they were willing to take the meds, they are also the type of person to believe they are impervious to the badness that would come with an overabundance of the meds. They would think that they are somehow super-person and that they could beat the virus simply by taking ALL of the meds all at one time. So they would, in essence, survive the virus only to be eliminated by the meds.

Third, there’s always the chance that they’ll get the meds (which, btw, will come through Medicaid as they don’t have health insurance), and then sell them on the street because they’re not the exact same meds that their friends have or that they believe will work best.

Fourth, I also believe that they will simply not want to be on the meds, or will forget to take them… or will somehow otherwise not take them.

All in all, I don’t think that this person is going to make the 10-15 year lifespan they believe they will. And in talking with experts on the subject, there’s a pretty good chance that they’ll be dead in a year. 🙁


afternoon phone calls

So I’m riding with Tina back to work after having lunch together and my phone beeps with a message that I need to call back a number I’ve never seen before.

But I’m a sucker… so I call. And it’s a close family member calling.

I know, based on prior behavior, that the fact of the call means that it’s bad news. And I’m right.

I am now related to someone with HIV.

To my afflicted family member: I’m really sorry. 🙁 I love you more than you’ll ever know and I wish there was something I could do to make this go away.