HIV Tales from my diary -Tale 1

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HIV Tales from my diary 

She was Goddess of wealth not only by name but in muscles bones and skin too. People called her ” Laxmi”.Her surroundings were made of steel like strength of four well to do brothers in a family business of happiness. Happiness , I say, because they were selling goods needed for happy occasions in any Indian family. Happiness, I say, because health , wealth and fame surrounded them from all around. Happiness, I say , because the words like grief and sorrow were missing from their dictionary. The life took a heavenly turn further with her marriage in an equally affluent family. Affluence of other family was like a flower in the garden of her youth. The flower however has the fragrance mixed with thorns at base. The bridegroom brought gloom with his addiction. It took not much time for the Goddess of wealth, Laxmi, to face the wrath of God of health. She became a widow as well as a prey of HIV. Back to the walls made of steel, the brothers did not let her fall. Early nineties was not a time to save HIV lives with meager means. But means were never mean for this family. 

Laxmi survived on paper but in spirits she started to die out bit by bit , day by day. Brothers were buying her life by way of costly medicines but the other family members specially sister in laws ( wives of rich brothers – poor by heart ) selling worries. They thought she should have separate utensils, toilets. They did not want their children to play with their aunt ,living under same roof. The curfew on enjoyment of innocence was playing dangerous game with the mind of the sensitive adult. Laxmi started feeling the dichotomy, felt like crying all the time in private, lean on some shoulder. But , where was the shoulder to cry on. It was near , strong willed but weak in the eyes of society. One of her own brother’s employee was a close observant besides being their servant. The time and affection of a shoulder to cry on brought on a time change once again. Raju ( fictitious name ) fell in love with Laxmi and Laxmi too started liking his strength. Their urge to marry even at the risk of deadly virus being passed onto a ” LIFE” became stronger inch by inch, foot by foot, mile by mile. The distances and the gaps started closing in. The four letter word stared taking the shape of a new story. Love was in air. Multiple number of counseling sessions by the care giver , healer of Laxmi, the “me” ,could not prevent the love flower to blossom. 

Marriage resulted in the expected. How can owners of the house made of walls of steel see their walls crumbling with an attack of flowers. They showed their strength( wisemen interpret as weakness )by putting all sorts of restraints , physical , economical and mental on newly weds. 

Laxmi and Raju’s good days started on a rough turf. 

Medicines by now were not an issue as ART ( Anti Retro Viral treatment , centers) of science was all over. The issue now was of survival only, in a world ,where money only makes the mare go. 

The tough however made the tough going. Laxmi n Raju worked their way of life through death. Laxmi always thought death through life was worse than life through death. It’s been two and a half decades today, when she faced widowhood and death for the first time. The time and science changed her life. 

Today she is happy with a bundle of joy in her lap. Science helped them enjoy the fruits of having a progeny of their own. Today Laxmi may not be playing in the lap of Goddess of wealth but is happy in terms of internal satisfaction and happiness. 

Like all fairy tales of past , her story also ends on the note ” and Raju and Laxmi , the new King and Queen , happily thereafter for ever and ever. “. 

Rakesh Bharti 

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HIV tales from my diary- Tale 2. 

This shade of grey was new to my city’s weather. The Sun spread a layer of hot white everywhere but roses were bent upon adding pink and add the fragrance of love all around. Nidhi ( name changed) had just recovered from the heat of a deadly disease and fallen in the frozen sea of love. The life for her had become a Rubik cube like puzzle. It was only the other day when she was praying to her Gods for survival, after all the doctors had labeled her disease as non Hodgkin lymphoma , a cancer. Chemotherapy did not deter her determination to fight on despite its side effects being at their best. There was no dearth of well wishers of the strong girl too. When blood was needed, the blood transfusion officers has to politely refuse quite a few. The fight took a decisive turn. Nidhi was stamped ” CURED”. 

The fate did not stop smiling on her, she got a job and the broad shoulders of Aniket ( name changed) to rest for life time , too. The hot June was like a return of ” spring” to her. Dating was taking shape of a great ” Romeo Juliet ” proportions, when Aniket’s family suddenly became villainous . How could they accept a bride with history of cancer for their only son ??. The determination of Aniket, knowledge by family well wishers and love for only son conspired to win over the resistance of the renowned family of bridegroom. The marriage fixed. Ceremonies were in full swing , cards distributed. The health of weather was in it’s best of pink , when Nidhi stated looking pale and feverish. Return to doctors was imminent. Return of devil was not expected, however. Yet the unexpected does play a part. Nidhi was found to be HIV positive few days before the marriage ceremony. Time to pray returned in full swing. 

The news shattered two families. The effect was more on Aniket’s parents. Their determination to not allow the nuptial knot was only getting deterred by fear of ignominy and love of their child. Despite their wishes Aniket married HIV positive ,survivor of NHL , Nidhi. 

Aniket’s father could not bear the shock , some button in his heart got pressed by the stress and within a fortnight of Aniket’s marriage he became a past tense for the world. 

Aniket’ s mother had a double shock. She was now in a stage where no mother can even think to be in. She became an enemy of her own. The life for Nidhi was becoming vegetative till she came across an HIV physician ,that is me. Although , the science by now had made more progress than Nidhi’s grief, yet it needed some human face and angle to give shape to Nidhi’s future. Loads of counseling of the direct and indirect victims of the deadly virus , start of antiretroviral therapy to the victim started bringing the derailed to tracks. 

Aniket n Nidhi became sort of example amongst couples of their age and circle. The happiness quotient eclipsed the dark inner side of the story. Aniket’s widowed mother who used to assign her widowhood to his marriage accepted the reality of life. But the acceptance did not come without a price. She wanted to see grandson replacing her husband. Mother’s desires rubbed young couples shoulders. 

The desires took wings. 

HIV physician came to help their flight of dreams once again. Gynecologist friend and advances in modern medicine , the changed vision of looking at HIV management all pooled the resources of knowledge and lo behold the dreams of Aniket’s family became a treasure ( Nidhi means treasure ) of reality. 

Grandmother was blessed with a grandson and granddaughter at one go and that too without the virus traveling to either her son or grandchildren. 

Nidhi’s presence in my chamber always reminds me of my own dreams of being a doctor with happiness of others surrounding my cup of feeling of fulfillment. 

I have started believing in miracles now , miracles of science. 

Rakesh Bharti

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HIV tales from my diary – Tale 3. 

I was all set with packed baggages to visit the country which gave my son a degree ensuring a ” Green” future. Then suddenly I got a call from a friend and a surgeon. It is difficult to differentiate that he is a better surgeon or a better friend. Friends can be great surgeons and help remove your deficiencies silently as if working through a scope and shredding the stones in you with tripser. Good surgeons on the other hand , can be friendly even in most difficult situations. Rampal ( name changed) is one who is both. The call was to fix a dilemma. Dilemma of “to operate or not to operate “upon an advocate with a larger wound on thigh than his thigh itself. Seeing Ranvir ( name changed again , but the disclaimer is that change of name never changed the meaning of his name – he remained a fighter of battles, almost before signing surrender). I was double non plussed. First (non) plus as I did not know why I , a dermatologist, was called the second , how can I help while being ready for a journey of thousands of miles (Rampal knew about my flight etc much in advance ). A little further probe had the answers, however. Ranvir was HIV positive and my friend was in a fix as far as deciding future course of management of Ranbir’s ailment and that too in my absence. Loosing no time , I suggested some tests , which he could send me through Internet so as to take a call on antiretroviral drugs to salvage HIV in his body. I also suggested him to go ahead with surgical debridement etc. required after taking usual universal precautions. I flew away and so flew away the time. 

It is said no news is good news , I expected same while being away in umrika and thought and wished and prayed for Ranbir’s health. Goes without saying didn’t get any email, although. 

On my return , the thirsty mind’s pitcher was filled with good news of Ranvir’s healed wound as well as he being put on correct drugs. I was happy with science and my prayers. The only thing different than my expectations was of my friend’s effort. My absence and presence of HIV both scared him and Rampal took no risk, contrary to the dictum ” surgeons have to be bold in taking risks and lucky”. He sent the patient to PGIMER, Chandigarh, one of the best institutes of the country. Ranvir’s winning the battle was assured the moment he landed in safe hands of premier institute of the country. After the battle was won , he was sent to me to carry on with the war till finish. 

I was happy , Ranvir was happy. 

We became friends more than patient doctor – the relationship was punctuated often by jokes full of intelligence. The atmosphere in his presence started assuming proportions of grandeur of happiness. The surround air full of laughter often brought smiles on sick patients waiting for their turns. His absence to come n collect his medicine quota every month will necessitate a phone call. My phone was usually taken by his wife and she became too familiar to my voice even in phone. 

Spring was about to usher in and leaves were falling all over, when Ranvir did not report. As usual my phone was replied by his wife but the tone that time was little rude. 

She broke the news of Ranvir’s surrender to the war against HIV. He signed off leaving an unforgettable remark ” tummy is full of drugs , can’t take anymore. “. 

His memories at his worst and at his best will keep hanging in my mind the way the memories of his hanging body will linger in his wife’s life time memory. 

How can a fighter by name be not fighter in action. Seems Shakespeare had a doctor in his mind when he wrote ” what is there in a name “. 

Kaash– may be he succeeded in hiding his real emotions behind the jokes and signed off when he was winning rather than at the time he was loosing life’s battle. I could not read his mind. The advocate in him could not plead ” life” 

I wish there is no “Ranvir” in my medical life again and no Ranvir could ever again hide his mental agony behind laughter. May all Ranvir’s plead life and win battles of diseases and wars of death. 

 Rakesh Bharti 

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HIV Tales from my diary- tale 4.

The excitement of attending an international conference on sexually transmitted diseases for the fresh MD pass out was no less exciting than sex itself. It was the beginning of ninth decade of last century, when I had this opportunity. The conference was held in national capital making my attendance along with couple of friends easy. The conference was pregnant with the discourses on the newest and deadliest virus affecting those indulging in Sex specially the unnatural one. Like all our leaders religious and political ones we also thought we are God fearing nation and don’t indulge in unnatural things. Little did we realize that the virus has already started crawling in our own backyard. Reports of first cases were trickling from metro cities where sex was not only talked openly but also traded openly. Being doctors from small and that too religious town ,Amritsar , we were sure – the death through this virus can never descent upon our skies. The thinking was like that of a pigeon. The pigeon who on seeing the hostile cat moving towards him, closes his eyes in the hope that cat won’t see him. The pigeon in me , however, did not close eyes. Just after returning , I floated an idea and friends joined hands. We formed an NGO. Soon we were almost celebrities knowing all about HIV and AIDS. All talks in our region started revolving around us. We started delivering preventive lectures , educating doctors. The name and fame so acquired forced us to learn treatment modalities as well. The alphabets of treatment of HIV started unfolding and world had first combination of drugs saving lives. 

 My own clientele of HIV patients also started swelling and affected started approaching me. 

Prateek ( name changed ) was one such patient who was referred to me by an Indian authority on the disease from economic capital of the country . Mumbai walas, patients and doctors alike ,were much more ahead in understanding the disease as compared to those like me practicing in limited resources in terms of patient material and availability of drugs , and even diagnostics. 

Prateek’s presence in my clinical life changed the colors of walls all around. His queries will force me to look further and farther for new additions to my understanding of the subject. Each of his query gave new words and their meanings. to jumbled alphabets of HIV treatment, I was playing with. 

Time was now on real wings. The available antiretroviral drugs were becoming meaningless for Prateek’s life. On retrospect , today , I  realize that his drug regimen was failing due to viral resistance and so was his hopeful vision about survival. 

Both of us knew that our relationship is on the verge of termination. 

One day Prateek called. This time his call was like a final boarding call of a flight leaving for a distant unknown destination. Guessing his psyche, I decided to visit his home for the first and last time. On reaching there , I found him extremely sick yet full of spirit and sensed life coming back to his dieing body on seeing me. He also has a great sense of understanding others emotions. Reading my mind , rightly or wrongly , he asked his HIV negative wife to bring a cold drink for me and went in to explain,” I know doc, you won’t share tea with me an HIV victim, as I can’t provide tea in separate cutlery!!!!????”.

The whole lot of knowledge ,I used to disseminate to general public about the spread of disease and non discrimination came to a ” test”. A person ,on death bed ,wanted me a person who was to live and can afford telling lies, to speak the truth- that was the paradox. May be he was testing the bookish knowledge of mine and trying to put that to reality check. 

The human in me the HIV doctor became humane in no time. 

I refused to accept the cold drink and asked his wife to get me not only a cup of tea but also some cookies along with. 

Prateek was so happy with my gesture that he asked his wife to handover his personal diary ,after his death , to me. Next day , he bid adieu to the world and left a widow and a son and a diary for me. 

Going through the pages of life and emotions , I came to know the reality of discrimination one suffers if he is a victim of a disease like this. He suffered at the hands of society including medical world around him in proportions which can’t find alphabets to describe the word ” agonizingly agony”. 

The only satisfaction ,the doctor in me ,has that ,his last day was devoid of discrimination. His doctor had tea and cookies in same cup and saucer which he was having. 

Rest In Peace Prateek. 

Rakesh Bharti

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HIV Tales from my diary- Tale 5

Friendship of school days surrounded the air which was full of fragrance of happiness. The reason was obvious. We guys left school fifty Golden years ago. The meeting to celebrate same reminded us all of those innocent days. The fun of those days was being relived so minutely. We remembered how we used to give nick names to teachers , played pranks upon each other , bunked school to see movies , learnt choicest abuses in vernacular , experimented with new found sexual macho spirits etc etc. As the evening was becoming adulterated with adulthood , the alcoholic geriatrics started acting sweet sixteen. Those who passed their tenth class five decades ago were behaving drunkard with their success stories of high school. Soon , they were spilling their life time successes in terms of name and fame acquired thereafter all over. After few drinks , boasting becomes a ritual. So was true for this bunch of oldies too. Some one was boasting ones millions , others talked about simplicity during their entire life. Some succeeded in business, some in profession and gossip of life that night ,made the night never ending. 
I could not have been an exception. I was in my own thoughts and was lost in remembering my own story. 

High school to college to medical college to a specialist was a journey full of stories. 

But the greatest satisfactory stories emerged from the human beings coming into my professional life. They became special, when stigmatized and ostracized diseases like leprosy and HIV were brought back into mainstream ,just with dent of successes of modern medicine and its humane practitioner. Being a good human being was always my goal , a goal more than a goal of being a good doctor ( as my father always advised ) and it was this achievement which was filling my cup of achievements, always.

 Swarna’s story was no mean an achievement for me. 

It was a decade and a half ago when I came across ” Swarna”. It was a rainy day , patients were scarce like rain in deserts. The wait ended ,when a couple ,appeared on my clinics skies. The moment, a young beautiful girlish looking lady entered my chamber , I was wonderstruck by her countenances and was almost dumbfounded. It was her husband’s husky voice, loaded with expressions of extreme grief and punctuated by sob soaked sentences ,which broke the silence. 

His narration of his own story , dampened the spirits of doctor in me , the doctor ,who is in the habit of getting wet in patients personal rains and forgets to put on the rain coat of exterior toughness even. Swarna’s husband belonged to sales of medicines and thus was connected someway to medical profession too. Like ,everyone related to medical profession ,in whatever way ( peon to pharmacist to nurse to Medical representatives to dais) he also used to think himself as much a doctor as anyone sailing in his boat . It is like a gold plated ornament thinking itself to be gold. But this time ,his knowledge belittled him in his own eyes. He was baffled with the ailment of his wife. Rather than the ailment , his worries were more about the cause. The cause of transmission of virus ,however ,ceased to bother me any longer. But for epidemiological reasons , the relevance of knowing the cause was like exhuming of a dead body for post mortem of a virgin to know whether she was pregnant or not. Revelations of pregnancy status of a dead virgin can only serve a purpose ” defamation ” and so is to know the cause of HIV transmission through sex with” XYZ” in a “one night “or “multiple night “affairs. Those were the days when contracting a disease like HIV was always linked with ” character”. And character was linked to sexual indulgence out side the temple of marriage , it was not linked much to other ways of transmission of the virus ( like blood and mother to child transmission). The character was more deeply assassinated if one of the partners in marriage was not having the virus. 

The joys of Swarna being pregnant were already drowned in floods of dashed hopes of a son “sea ” and painted her husband’s small world with darkness , by the news of ” twin daughters in her womb”. His radiologist friend had broken the law and ethics to break the news to him. Ever since further tests carried out as a routine ante natal check up, hell broke loose on him. He was like a prisoner locked in a dark room, whose four walls comprised of a daughter here , a daughter there, a virus called HIV here and a virus called HCV there. He had four pronged attack on his happiness. Me , the physician and He, the victim’s life partner ,were moving in opposite directions. My concerns were to prevent the virus from entering into the bodies of twins growing inside Swarna’s womb , as well as ,her partner , but Swarna’s husband was concerned about the mode of entry of virus in her body. His questioning settled with my counseling to great extent but my queries lurched in uncertain future even after providing prophylaxis medicines and putting HCV treatment in place. 

HCV left her body via the exit door comprising of costly injections of interferons but HIV still had to pass through exit doors from her twins bodies. Their birth was hanging with moments of Caesar’ s wife( Pompeia ) who need to be above suspicion. I along with Swarna’s family were worried at the time of birth of her daughters. Both the twins named ,”Khushi” and ” Muskan” would be forced to be ” Pompeia ” every moment of their lives and prove their innocence, if the anti retroviral given to their mother failed to achieve the desired. Fourteen months was like an exile for Hindu God ” Rama”S exile. But then came the celebration day , after 14 long months ( due to inadequacy of testing availabilities of those times ) even the HIV antibodies ,acquired from mother ,exited the bodies of both twins and the twins were declared HIV free. 

Parents started enjoying their childhood through these two lovely girls. 

Time literally grew wings and Swarna’s life was floating in airs of hope ,once again. She started settling in her profession and was touching new heights. Even the female lead of successful Punjabi movie got her dresses designed by her. This fact , became a signature statement of her living with HIV in a meaningful way. I started narrating her success as my success to my new HIV patients ,during counseling sessions. 

More years rolled down and the proverbial seven year itch appeared in Swarna’s marital life. Once again her husband wanted to put her on the cross. 

That morning she came with him with swollen eyes. The cause – her husband was suspecting infidelity. This time my counseling task was tougher task than what I faced for first time in handling this couple’s queries of cause of viral transmission. But as the saying goes ” tough gets going when going gets tough”. I acted tough and softened the hard nut husband ,once again. He got convinced that his wife will not spread the virus to others just out of vengeance ,exploiting her good looks. It was his fault to misunderstand her inner self and strength.The times ironed out the rough weather once again. 

More waters flew in Sutlej and Beas , the two rivers of my state. 

Barely two days before , we planned Golden jubilee celebrations plan meet of our passing out from school came a good news. 

The news of passing out of Khushi and Muskan from their school. 

Leaving school with flying colors can always splash rainbow of good memories at the proverbial drop of hat in anyone’s life. I was thinking that those moments of my own life must be replaying themselves the other day in respective lives of ” Khushi” and ” Muskan” too. After all ,both of them too passed their tenth exam with flying colors. 
Khushi and Muskan ( their names meaning happiness and smiles ,so aptly kept ) are twins of ” Swarna “( meaning Gold) , who turned my clinical life’s success in real Gold and proved to be a “Paras Pathhar”( touch stone) for me. Touching her life rewarded me with a Golden success. 

The third peg of whiskey, actually drowned me in uninhibited mood of happiness. I could not stop sharing my success story to my school time oldies. 

I had many such stories to share with them but they were busy in theirs and night was deepening. 

The Sun was about to shine the same way it shined in the lives of Swarna, her husband and twin daughter’s life, that day. 
Rakesh Bharti 

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HIV Tales from my diary- Tale 6

It was an unusually calm morning. It was dawn of a day of spring. It was pregnant with hope. The calmness and freshness of spring both got aborted prematurely soon. The first patient , who was in a hopeless and desperately volatile mood, brought in an eerie . The calmness and pleasantness suddenly evaporated like camphor. She brought dark clouds with her and it looked like midnight of a moon less night – darkness surrounded my chamber from all sides in no time.
The weather changed.
Vibhuti was coming straight from a reputed lab of the city to me so as to ascertain the truth of her husband’s report. The report was a tell tale sign of a virus which predicts doom. The report of viral load and Cd4 of her husband meant the presence of HIV in him. Although the reports were not ringing alarm bells for his death yet there were sounds of fear of not having new life in their lives . She was livid with the fear of her motherhood hopes being dashed to the ground in an instant.
She has been married for more than a year. Her marriage was like a fairy tale coming alive. Vibhuti ,the only daughter of her parents (who had limited resources of living ) was universally beautiful and could have won any pageant hands down but for her participation. Amoort , her classmate , equally handsome ,was the only son , of a filthy ( in real sense) rich parents. Their respective families bore social labels ,which were north and south, in terms of status. Both of them knew that the biggest speed breaker ,in the ride of their fairy tale romance reaching the destination,of marriage , will be the moving wheels of money. They were certain to marry each other but obstacles were many, even time was a deterrent. The destiny also had a different design .
At the right time , wrong things started happening. When Amoort was about to talk and win over his parents, He fell ill. He became victim to a mysterious infection. He developed fever which was refusing to go and to add salt to injury he started having some fits as well. The cause detected after detailed investigations was found to be cryptococcal meningitis , a fungal infection of layers of brain. Even the best of doctors of the city were baffled by his deep fungal infection. Why it occurred was a cause of concern because it can happen only in persons with decreased immunity and that occurs in cancers etc. No body thought that the cause of low immunity can be a virus called HIV in his case. The virus , which in those days was considered to be An Invitation to Death Surely, virus which was supposed to cause AIDS. The whole family was in ,for a shock.
A search for a physician , who could be relied upon for his capabilities as well as maintaining secrecy of his ailment , began in right earnest. His friends and family could soon find ,my doors which were ajar for such victims of the virus and was not far off from his home too.
Those were not so early days of epidemic. New drugs had started becoming available. Managing HIV was hardly any issue by then. We the treating physicians , by now , were clear that HIV is a chronic manageable infection with which one can live a full life with few lifestyle changes .
In Amoort’s case however, more than antiviral drugs , drugs to tackle his deep fungal infection were needed. These drugs were not that freely available and used also. They were toxic and costly too. I had to work like a MD student ,once again after many years of passing my post graduation ,burn the midnight oil , literally, contact more seasoned peers to achieve the goal . The goal was to flush fungus out of his system without side effects of drugs and put him on antiretroviral drugs for life. The fungus could be successfully eradicated with the help of books and peers and hand of luck being on my side. The boy was now handed over to antiretroviral drugs and it was certain that he will be able to live long. This fact of his winning the battle , was the reason that Amoort’s discharge
from hospital was like convocation for me.
It was thrilling like first kiss or affair or the enjoyment one gets with first steps of ones own baby . Celebrations were all around his family and I was also a part of the same.
His family and mine discovered some more common links. He and his gang were friendly with my children’s friends. This fact strengthened further the links ,of a healer and to be healed.
Everything started moving in right direction once again. Amoort will come for his medicines and tests etc at appointed times on dot. He will often chitter chatter with me. We used to discuss things like any father discussing anything under the sun with his son.
I remember , one day ,we ,even discussed ,marriages. It was during this session that I told him not to go for this trap as that may harm someone else’s life rather than jeopardizing his own independence. Apparently he concurred. But little did I know that he was hiding his real intentions. I got a real shock ,of being not invited ,to his marriage. I came to know about his marriage in a rather sarcastic way of asking by someone known to both of us. The source of my information was none other than the friends ,who found my doors for his treatment and who had asked me once to counsel him against marriage. The shock was of a scale on Richter scale which could not shake even a brick. This was soon over when , I realized that it was me only , who was preaching him about not marrying and spoiling another life. In those circumstances ,when he was taking a call to defy me , how could he invite me. The ” no invite” decision of his was , understandable. I met him on a road side sometime later and expressed my annoyance too , but it was for the heck of it only.
My clinic doors were forgotten by him for some time , not because of my annoyance but because of his own guilt, I believe. His shame of not listening to his physician’s advise came on the way.
But as all times are not same , shame and annoyance also come to a halt after sometime. Not that the time heals or let one forget but certainly one learns to live with the pain , shame , anger et al. Same happened in this tale of Vibhuti and Amoort.
I never thought of this spring seasons ,early morning ,showing me the face of Vibhuti , the girl I used to meet at the bedside of gravely ill Amoort. She used to be in an all time worried mood. One day ,the same worried face will marry him, despite knowing his ailment ,was beyond my imagination.
I was aghast with the news that her husband not only hid the real ailment of his but was also successful in convincing her that his fungal infection was the main hurdle between her and her motherhood. He told her that it was me ,who has debarred pregnancy till the clearance of fungi from his body. He told her ,” today I shall get my report and then may be Dr. Bharti allows us with a green signal for pregnancy. It was Vibhuti’s anxiety which preempted her move to visit the lab herself. What she discovered was beyond her wildest dreams. The news of devastation brought her straight to me. She wanted me to deny the reality.Even , I was at my baffled most sense. How could he and his family hide the HIV from the delicate girl and entice the not so rich parents of hers to solemnize their marriage in the name of ” love” ??. I was thinking.
I was put to the cross once again. First her love tested me with the challenge of life and now she was challenging me to sort out her life’s crossroads.
Regrouping all my skills as a doctor and counseling specialization I tried to be as normal as possible. Despite my best , it took me no where in convincing her to adopt either of two roads.
First road was leading her back to her home and shattering the dreams of her family , breaking the parents fragile emotions and living away from her love.
The second route , I suggested her , was to keep living in the same relationship but without enjoying or hoping to enjoy the fruits of motherhood.
She did not want to go either way. She desired a child even at the risk of her getting the virus and disease.
Open challenge again.
Save the mother from HIV , help her have the child and save the child from HIV too. I started working like a MD student again. Searched here there and everywhere about the possibilities of childbirth in a serodiscordant couple of HIV negative wife with the sperms of seropositive husband. One Italian doctor was reporting about separation of virus from the semen. I probed the local IVF specialist about the possibility. He agreed that something like this can be attempted. But in the face of the real time scenario, he took the shield of law and morality and future and refused to undertake the difficult job and help Vibhuti. My search continued. The search
led me to a Mumbai based doctor , Dr. Malpani , who claimed success in couple of cases but at an exorbitant cost. Money being no consideration , the dreams of the couple has to be realized.
Success and destiny once again conspired to bring happiness in lives of the couple.
The fairy tale once once again became alive.
Today Vibhuti and Amoort don’t visit my clinic and are getting treatment from where , I don’t know and care. But there comes few social occasions ,when they cross my path. The pleasure I get in seeing them happy and the pleasure ,I get talking to their only school going son ,is beyond words of description.
I thank God for giving me an opportunity to be a doctor. I thank God for keeping the ” human” alive in me. I thank God for some fairy tales becoming alive.
Rakesh Bharti

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HIV Tales from my diary – Tale 7 

As the party grew in its girth and stature , as the night started becoming young , the old man ( so called , as now onwards, he will not be considered ,fit to work at same place where he was fit till yesterday , day before or last year for no reason ) started bowing down under the weight of gifts given to him. Culmination of party needed a tip of an iceberg to explode on the tunes of DJ wale babu. The customary cake was in sight soon. This was followed by some reminiscing moment. People were asked to say few words about the person. The moment this Pandora box was opened, friends and acquaintances started showering advises. The advises about how to lead a retired life. The advises of how not to do certain things , as if to overtly pointing out his deficiencies in his life so far. The advises to fulfill his unfilled desires. . If Ganges is in full flow then even atheists will love to take a dip, so how could one remain sitting on the banks. Jaggi ( friends used to address Jagtar by this nick name) did not remain a mute spectator for long. He too took a plunge in the river and took advantage of the opportunity created. He gave his piece of mind too. Jaggi said ,” thank you all for coming and your advises. I wish I could have followed all but my wish is to do nothing and chill at home visit places, go traveling around the world. Sorry to disappoint you guys for not heeding to your words of wisdom but then this is my plan. ”  
Sermons over and the gyrating time arrived. 

DJ wale babu invited one and all to the floor and show ” Dharmendra ” skills. Some however had “Hritik “skills too and the old man who has just retired joined the dancing gang with Retyred enthusiasm. 

The whole night , thereafter , he was dreaming and planning his visits to far and wide. He had already got his daughter married and his only son , just after a master’s degree under his belt got a MNC appointment. 

No liabilities and all ability to be a free bird. 

The lazy morning’s laze of next day , however ,was broken by the demand of Ramneek , his son , to accompany him to a specialist. It was his fever for last few days which was not playing truant despite family doctors best efforts. Since it was his first post retirement day bowed to his son’s request but as there was no hurry, Jagtar fixed an appointment for the evening. He thought he will go to the doctor after getting the investigations prescribed by the family doctor. At the fixed hour, father and son collected the reports and asked the laboratory in charge about them. His answer was not very peasant. Lab guy advised to see some doctor good at viral diseases and recommended my name. Jagtar’s wife at this point of time insisted to accompany. 

I still remember, when the trio reached my chamber. Their unease was very palpable. Jagtar told me that it was only yesterday that he has retired and has great plans post retirement which seems to have crashed. The couple broke down in no time and the young son was at his worst lost mood. I tried to gauze the whole scenario , utilized my all skills of counseling and convinced them that the preliminary reports can be wrong too , despite knowing the reality. This postponement of declaring doom was sure to act as a cushion to griefy days ahead, I thought. What followed in those days of hardly any medication to treat HIV can be beyond imagination of all those who have not suffered any chronic ailment in their lives. It was like waiting endlessly for the music of life to die off any moment. Jagtar and his family , even the extended one ,were brave hearts. They all were fighters true to the caste they belonged to- warriors, brave, Sikhs and that too Jats. They pooled their resources and could manage HIV medicines even from abroad as by then they were not available in the country. Ramneek started showing signs of improvement with the dual therapy ( Zidovudine and Lamivudine) available at that time. He wanted to join his company too but the fear of getting his HIV status known to the world stopped him in his tracks. Jagtar and Ramneek started a small business and were happy again. They kept visiting me , for tests on time and medicine , which became available by then , locally ,although at a high cost. 

Couple of years rolled down as smoothly as a Rolls Royce on Paris roads forgetting the broken roads of Amritsar. But then grounding had to occur, after all, how long one can be air borne. The efficacy of two drugs was on the wean. The weaning off effect of drugs was bumpy. Ramneek started falling ill again. The third drug for HIV has by now become available too and he was switched to a new combination of three drugs. The tragedy was not yet over. Opportunistic infections found their play ground. He fell victim to pneumocystis carinii pneumonia. The diagnosis of which was delayed due to the lack of exposure to the agent causing the disease by the chest physicians of the town. They kept on treating him for TB. Anti tubercular drugs with drugs used and available at that time together conspired to shut his ” liver shop” and the dreaded day arrived. While I was returning from Ramneek’s room after declaring the eternal truth , Jagtar came running to me. 

For a moment , I thought I have committed a mistake , which no doctor should ever commit. I thought and wished , I declared him dead wrongly. 

But ,Jaggi ( by now Jagtar has become Jaggi for me too) has some other purpose to come to me. He came to request me to not to attend the funeral of his son. Jaggi was thinking that my presence in cremation ground will send wrong signals for the society ,specially that society, where his roots were dug deep and which believes that his brilliant son unfortunately was suffering from a cancer and not HIV. He never wanted the presence of a physician who openly declares himself to be a “HIV PHYSICIAN” even in the cremation ground. He thought people may think his son died of AIDS. Jagtar feared he shall be ostracized in the society, if it comes to know the real ailment of his son. 

I felt more ostracized at that moment then he feared for himself but bowing to his wishes I did not attend Ramneek’s cremation. 

The prick ,Jaggi gave ,to my persona , however was a game changer.  

I was determined to do something. 

After the usual grief period of forty days , I decided to have a cup of tea with Jaggi at his place of convenience. Cup of tea , spilled over to few drinks and the night ended on a grand note. 

Jaggi was now all set to start a new life. He joined a course in social service ,in the local university ,with an aim to shoot the ostracism against HIV in the society. 

His retirement achieved new tyres and he returned to the game of life with retyred zeal. He might have lost his son ,but has many more now , in his fold . He does everything to prevent the disease amongst youth , he does everything to make people learn ways to live with dignity even with the disease. Every year , he calls me for an annual function of his NGO , which can boast itself to be first of its kind and boldest and biggest. Now I no more repent not paying my last respects to Ramneek. Although I do wish many Jaggi’s fighting ostracism to sufferers of any ailment but I don’t wish anymore Ramneek’s to fall pray to HIV 

Rakesh Bharti