The Real Heroes
Profiles of Courage
by Sue Saltmarsh
In considering how this column could fit in with the theme of the issue, I took a few moments to think about the people I’ve known and admired in my 15 years of working in the HIV/AIDS community. There are so many that should be mentioned that I’m sure Enid would tear her hair out at the 15-page article I could submit! However, I will stick with the ones who I believe stick with me.
My first connection with this community came in 1993 at the AIDS Alternative Health Project (AAHP). Freshly graduated from the Southwest School of Botanical Medicine, I’d come back to Chicago to “corner the Midwest market,” as most herbalists in the U.S. are on either coast. A client whose son was HIV-positive suggested I contact AAHP to see if there was a place for me there. Little did I know it, but that suggestion would lead me to meet Sal, with whom I would share one of the deepest friendships of my life; it would urge me to practice my modality in a constant state of learning and growth; it would begin the weaving of one of my strongest heartstrings and it would change my life forever.
I will never forget that first day or the three first clients I met—Catherine, Scott and Chris. I was almost literally shaking as I listened to Catherine tell me about her son who had been born with HIV soon after she was diagnosed. Here was a woman who was looking to me to help her and her son stay alive! I believe she must’ve known how nervous I was, because by the end of the hour, as she put her bottle of sleep herbs in her purse, she patted me on the shoulder, assuring me that she was sure they would work.
Scott appeared next, his face covered with molluscum and a huge smile. He was so enthused and so optimistic that I found myself forgetting about the huge responsibility I had in trying to help him with digestive difficulties (some of the trickiest things to handle since most of the herbs that would be greatly beneficial were contraindicated by the meds he was taking) and just enjoying talking to him. I gave him a bag of organic peppermint tea and promised to have some capsules made up for him by the next week.
Oh, man, I thought to myself, how am I ever going to find a way to help this poor guy?And then there was Chris. Toweringly tall, painfully thin, obviously a victim of acne (teenage and beyond), KS legions, hair loss from chemo, pasty grey complexion, dark circles under his beautiful brown eyes. He had just been released from the hospital after a bout of PCP and teetered a bit as he sat down. Oh, man, I thought to myself, how am I ever going to find a way to help this poor guy? I expected him to start in on a litany of complaints—he certainly would have been justified! But, instead, he cheerfully told me that he was so glad to be back at home where he could have his favorite breakfast—yogurt and fruit—instead of the dreary hospital food. When I asked him, as part of his intake, what his main health complaint was, he laughed and said, “You mean my favorite? That would have to be nausea at the moment, but it’s just like the weather—wait a few minutes and I’m sure it will change!” Nausea? NAUSEA?? The one thing that I could actually do something about!
Over the next nine months, I met more and more people who were courageous and scared; open-minded and stubborn; believers and skeptics; frustrating and inspirational. Catherine slept better and eventually moved downstate so her family could help her raise her son. Scott struggled with kidney failure. Chris hung on. My own life went through changes, and my time was now split between AAHP and Project Vida. At Project Vida I found more people who wove their way into the tapestry of my heart.
Those first years were amazing and helped me, more than anything previously, to understand who I was and who I wanted to be. Unfortunately, also by the end of the first year, all these precious people had died. Twelve of my original group of clients were gone. I was faced, for the first time in my life, with grief and loss. And I learned about “pressing the bruise” (March/April 2006). At Chris’ memorial, I thought about how, with all the horrible things he had to deal with, he would always, sincerely, ask how I was and not let me get away with “Oh, I’m fine.” At Project Vida, we did a ceremony, releasing a balloon for each person we’d lost, and I thought about the example of gentle dignity that Claudia set; the ever-resilient Saybert; the love between Mark and Bob.
There have been, and will continue to be, people I meet through the vehicle of this disease who will enrich my life beyond any treasure—Leroy, Adelfio, Mary, Mark, Patrice, Jim, Rick and my TPAN family, Gary, Robert, Reynaldo, and Una, just to name a few. And while we, as humans, will always need those “bigger than life” heroes like Magic Johnson and Greg Louganis, for me it is these unknown, personal heroes who will always mean the most to me. Thank you all for gracing, guiding, and inspiring my life. Breathe deep and live long.
