or pretty much all my life I wondered why I had so many different doctors. I’m not sure how many doctors I had, but I remember when I was younger I went to San Francisco for doctor visits twice a year. When I was 13 years old, it was at one of these visits that I found out I have HIV. They told me that when I was born, my mother, who also has the virus, passed it on to me.
When I first found out that I had the virus, I didn’t know what it meant. I don’t think I’d ever even heard of HIV or AIDS before that day, so because of this I wasn’t really scared when I found out about it. I didn’t know what to say when they told me I had it, but I could tell it wasn’t a good thing to have because of the expressions on everyone’s faces and their tone when they told me about it. When they asked me if I had any questions, there was only one question I could think of: Was I going to die?
When they told me about it everything made sense. It made clear why my mom and I had to take special medication. After they told me the news, they told me about a summer camp for kids like me called Camp Kindle. It made clear why they always had a red ribbon at this camp.