It was your love that got me by

Thom Hudson helped begin TPAN in the summer of 1987 and served on our first Board of Directors. In September of [1989], he spoke at TPAN during our program on “HIV and AIDS Anniversaries.” That was four years after he learned he was HIV positive and 16 months after his first bout of pneumonia. After an autumn of mixed health, Thom died on October 19th [1989], surrounded by those he loved and who loved him. Here is a transcript of portions of his comments just five weeks earlier.

I was hospitalized this year from the 22nd of May to the 8th of June, with Cryptococcal pneumonia. At first, we thought it was Cryptococcal meningitis, which can be very bad if it gets into your spinal fluid and goes into your brain; but I guess when it got to my brain it starved and decided to retreat to my lungs. So everything turned out just fine even though I was very, very sick.

When I was in the hospital the drug that got me by was those of you here at TPAN. You know who you are. The cards and the letters and the visitations. It was your love that got me by; it wasn’t any drug that they could give me; it wasn’t any shot, any IV. It was love that got me by. And I sincerely mean that from the bottom of my heart.

During that time in the hospital, I was thinking; ‘My AIDS diagnosis anniversary is June 1st 1988, when I first had PCP.’ And it gave me some strength and made me think about different things. And it helped me make some decisions in my life that I needed to make and I changed a few things.

It seemed like a lot longer than a year. It seems at times I’ve been through a lot more than I have. And I really don’t think I’ve been through that much. Others have been through some episodes that make us look perfectly healthy.

That was an anniversary time for me and I’m very glad that came about.

My HIV test results

It was the beginning of ’85 when my lover Dale was diagnosed with AIDS. I knew, then and there, that I was positive also. I previously had some symptoms, neuroplasia in my extremities and sheer exhaustion; many of us know what that’s like. The NIH accepted Dale as part of the program and they asked me if I wanted to test. I did. Sure enough, I was positive in ’85.

Lots of people have asked, “Is it like sitting around, waiting for something to happen?” Well, yes, but I never really dwell on it. And I didn’t. I just kept going and doing everything I wanted to do. I travelled more. That’s why so many folks don’t see me and think I’m a millionaire because I’m always out of town. Don’t talk about it, do it. Just get up, get on a plane, train, bus and go; you won’t regret it. Any of you can do it.

It was this summer that slowed me down with the Cryptococcal pneumonia. In fact, while I was in the hospital Eastern Airlines went under. I knew that when I was in the hospital that this was going to be a little tougher than my first infection with PCP; and it was. It took a little more out of me than the PCP.

Many times I didn’t attend meetings because I just didn’t have the energy. You come home after trying to do different errands during the day and you’re huffin’ and puffin’ after trying to get up the stairs. But these things you have to expect; you can’t let them hold you back. Don’t use them as excuses. There’s no such thing as a good excuse.

Tough medicine

I’m doing some chemotherapy for some KS lesions they found in my mouth. The hospital people said “Oh, you’re not going to get sick with this.” Sure. The first time, for a couple of days, they were right. The third day it hit and I was sick with nausea for a week. The second time I didn’t have any nausea but I was just drawn out; I couldn’t get out of bed for three days. I saw the nurses at the hospital today and they still looked at me and said, “You didn’t get sick because of the chemo.” So I said, “Then you take it next time.”

Still, they mean well, and you learn that this is going to last 3 or 4 days and afterwards your energy picks up again and you’re off and out and doing your errands, running round, doing whatever you can do.

You have to plan on these things. I know I can’t take chemo and run off on a plane and visit because I just wouldn’t enjoy myself. So, it’s brought some organization into my life.

Drug administration

I have a port installed in my chest to make the administration of drugs a lot easier. There are different ones. Mine is a sub-clavian under the skin that we use for administering medications. When I got out of the hospital, I had to hook myself up every night to a very strong drug that would run through the night. Then I would unplug in the morning. But it’s not as bad as it sounds.

I take vitamins and I’ve been part of the Megace study at Northwestern. It’s a hormone that’s allowed me to look a lot better because I was very drawn from loss of weight. It definitely stimulates your appetite and gives you the power and the will to eat. And believe me, it does work. Sometimes at 11:00 at night it just hits you and you want a pizza, plus, cookies plus this plus that. It’s amazing.

I’m a better person

When I was HIV-positive, I did not live in dread. I figured, “Whenever it happens, it will happen.” I think it helped me, it encouraged me. I still remember the day we knew Dale was diagnosed with AIDS, I turned to him and said, “For some reason I’m gonna be a better person by the time this is all through.” And every once in a while he used to throw that back to me; “What do you mean by that?” And I’d say, “I don’t know; I just feel that in my heart.”

Dale only lived 18 months after his diagnosis. But I still believe that, because I know that’s the way it is in my life. I mean, look at this! Look at all of us sitting here tonight. That’s bad? No, that’s good. Think of all the good, all the love here.

Everything that has happened to me in the past three or four years has made me a better person and it continues daily.

Numbers aren’t everything

I always like to mention this because deep down I’m really proud of it. There’s quite a few of you here, in fact, whose mouths used to drop wide open when we talked about this: A couple years ago when I did orientation my T-cells were about 150. And some of you would come with your T-cells at 450 or 500 and you’d be frantic: “I’m gonna die next week!”

Get over it. Numbers aren’t everything. I’ve had three T-cells for the last six months. I’ve named them after the Three Stooges: Mo, Larry and Shemp. (I always liked Shemp better than Curley.) It’s what’s up here in your head, and here in your heart that really counts.