Love in the time of HIV
June 6, 2006 | 12:00am
(Winner, Lifestyle Journalism Awards 2006 sponsored by The Philippine Star, Stores Specialists, Inc. and HSBC)
I don’t like hospitals. There’s something about them that gives me the creeps. It’s mostly because I think of the amount of time people spend waiting there, anticipating their ill-fated or blessed destinies to be foretold by stoic oracles in long, white coats or scrubs in varying shades of green (and by green, I am referring to the appalling shade your face turns right before you regurgitate). Every hospital waiting room is forever teeming with people whiling away their fears, skimming over them as they flip through last season’s magazines and drowning them in room-temperature instant coffee. I don’t like hospitals because it seems that no matter how much you may hope to get better, the possibility that you may not always lingers at the back of your mind, along with the knowledge that even if you do get better, someone else in there won’t.
I am beginning on a dark note to stress a reality in our world that many still treat so casually, despite their awareness of the matter and its gravity. For as long as I have been reading and watching the news, I cannot recall a point in time wherein I was not bombarded by reports of disease, outbreaks and epidemics of one sort or another. Our concerns have grown and waned in illnesses such as polio, hepatitis, and mad cow disease. These concerns have been expressed publicly; however, there is one issue that I believe has been handled in a more covert manner: that of STDs.
Over the decades, there has been an alarming increase in the occurrence of STDs in the Philippines. This is an actuality that has been dealt with inadequately, the proof being the lack of appropriate sexual education, attitudes of indifference to prophylactic measures, and insufficiently-funded medical programs. We live in the repercussions of what the hippies thought they would improve with the concept of "free love." Bear in mind that this notion was most likely conceived on a bad acid trip. Unfortunately, sexuality in this country is handled under the table, in a brown paper bag, and most certainly away from the eyes of the church. And although a severe shift in paradigm is a bit of a tall order for society, I believe raising awareness would most certainly improve the situation.
With the increasing incidence of STD in the Philippines, we have to ask ourselves where love falls into place. Does the fear of disease and illness suppress our capacity to love? Upon entering a relationship, are we to sign a contract that stipulates a blood or tissue sample? These days, abstinence has become a behavioral rarity, having been replaced by promiscuity. Pre-marital sex, despite the negative attitude it elicits, is now more accepted than it used to be. It seems to me, however, that the possible consequences of such conduct are not considered as seriously as they should be, and that when the results come in, those affected act surprised and confounded as to how such a thing could have happened to them. Are we so crippled by our libidos that simple precautions suddenly seem like instruction manuals to operate fighter planes in the heat of the moment? And why do we decide to proceed with sexually liberated lifestyles if we constantly dread the notion of contracting STD? So many people share this devil-may-care attitude towards sex and yet carry out none of the responsibilities it should entail. Why is it that in this modern age of information overload we still (at times) disregard our health as something as fleeting as a one-night stand, yet allow it to impede our decisions to commit?
Taking responsibility for our choices is pretty scary. This brings me to another reason why I don’t like hospitals. It unsettles me the way doctors look with such disdain upon young people who are simply taking the appropriate safety measures to ensure that their actions aren’t in vain. I suppose this is the reason why so many people are afraid to get themselves checked out; the embarrassment of having to go through all the bureaucracy of getting tested is too much to bear for some, even if it is an absolutely necessity. Today, a person’s blood test results are now the equivalent of the scarlet letter. Nobody wants to look directly at it, but they avoid it like the plague when they know it’s there. It makes me wonder if people think about this whenever they meet someone they’re attracted to. I’m almost certain that it crosses their minds and immediately goes away after that first bottle of beer and I’ll bet they’re not particularly eager to tell their physicians the same thing. Of course, Filipino doctors had no better knowledge or understanding of human sexuality than sophisticated Filipino citizens prior the the mid-1950s (according to the International Encyclopedia of Sexuality), so I can understand why some people have their reservations about consultation. But better safe than sorry, right?
What breaks my heart is the stereotype that ignorant people attach to those of us who care to look after ourselves. The way some people associate sexual awareness with fire and brimstone is ridiculous. A specific example of this is the Madonna-Whore complex, the common belief that all women fall into two categories: the kind you marry and the kind you sleep with. Of course, a lot of people overlook the fact that this notion was founded back when abstinence was the only form of birth control and education was awarded only to women who wanted to be nuns (another reason why we are all so fortunate to live in this day and age). Isn’t it about time we got over that? The fact that we exercise sexual responsibility does not make for lack of morals. It simply means that we have grown up, wised up and become unafraid to be accountable for our actions. The time has come to make our bed and lie in it (with who, however, is entirely up to us and not anyone else’s business).
I don’t like hospitals. The waiting, the scowls from over-worked doctors, the smell of disinfectant and the itchy gowns and the bureaucracy required for a complete check- up. I would even go as far to say that I hate hospitals. However, the fact remains that I love myself. I value my health and wish not to compromise it for careless reasons. This is precisely why I put myself through all of that, because I owe it to myself. And hopefully, when love finally does come along, I won’t need to request a blood and tissue sample before I embrace it, without fear.
I don’t like hospitals. There’s something about them that gives me the creeps. It’s mostly because I think of the amount of time people spend waiting there, anticipating their ill-fated or blessed destinies to be foretold by stoic oracles in long, white coats or scrubs in varying shades of green (and by green, I am referring to the appalling shade your face turns right before you regurgitate). Every hospital waiting room is forever teeming with people whiling away their fears, skimming over them as they flip through last season’s magazines and drowning them in room-temperature instant coffee. I don’t like hospitals because it seems that no matter how much you may hope to get better, the possibility that you may not always lingers at the back of your mind, along with the knowledge that even if you do get better, someone else in there won’t.
I am beginning on a dark note to stress a reality in our world that many still treat so casually, despite their awareness of the matter and its gravity. For as long as I have been reading and watching the news, I cannot recall a point in time wherein I was not bombarded by reports of disease, outbreaks and epidemics of one sort or another. Our concerns have grown and waned in illnesses such as polio, hepatitis, and mad cow disease. These concerns have been expressed publicly; however, there is one issue that I believe has been handled in a more covert manner: that of STDs.
Over the decades, there has been an alarming increase in the occurrence of STDs in the Philippines. This is an actuality that has been dealt with inadequately, the proof being the lack of appropriate sexual education, attitudes of indifference to prophylactic measures, and insufficiently-funded medical programs. We live in the repercussions of what the hippies thought they would improve with the concept of "free love." Bear in mind that this notion was most likely conceived on a bad acid trip. Unfortunately, sexuality in this country is handled under the table, in a brown paper bag, and most certainly away from the eyes of the church. And although a severe shift in paradigm is a bit of a tall order for society, I believe raising awareness would most certainly improve the situation.
With the increasing incidence of STD in the Philippines, we have to ask ourselves where love falls into place. Does the fear of disease and illness suppress our capacity to love? Upon entering a relationship, are we to sign a contract that stipulates a blood or tissue sample? These days, abstinence has become a behavioral rarity, having been replaced by promiscuity. Pre-marital sex, despite the negative attitude it elicits, is now more accepted than it used to be. It seems to me, however, that the possible consequences of such conduct are not considered as seriously as they should be, and that when the results come in, those affected act surprised and confounded as to how such a thing could have happened to them. Are we so crippled by our libidos that simple precautions suddenly seem like instruction manuals to operate fighter planes in the heat of the moment? And why do we decide to proceed with sexually liberated lifestyles if we constantly dread the notion of contracting STD? So many people share this devil-may-care attitude towards sex and yet carry out none of the responsibilities it should entail. Why is it that in this modern age of information overload we still (at times) disregard our health as something as fleeting as a one-night stand, yet allow it to impede our decisions to commit?
Taking responsibility for our choices is pretty scary. This brings me to another reason why I don’t like hospitals. It unsettles me the way doctors look with such disdain upon young people who are simply taking the appropriate safety measures to ensure that their actions aren’t in vain. I suppose this is the reason why so many people are afraid to get themselves checked out; the embarrassment of having to go through all the bureaucracy of getting tested is too much to bear for some, even if it is an absolutely necessity. Today, a person’s blood test results are now the equivalent of the scarlet letter. Nobody wants to look directly at it, but they avoid it like the plague when they know it’s there. It makes me wonder if people think about this whenever they meet someone they’re attracted to. I’m almost certain that it crosses their minds and immediately goes away after that first bottle of beer and I’ll bet they’re not particularly eager to tell their physicians the same thing. Of course, Filipino doctors had no better knowledge or understanding of human sexuality than sophisticated Filipino citizens prior the the mid-1950s (according to the International Encyclopedia of Sexuality), so I can understand why some people have their reservations about consultation. But better safe than sorry, right?
What breaks my heart is the stereotype that ignorant people attach to those of us who care to look after ourselves. The way some people associate sexual awareness with fire and brimstone is ridiculous. A specific example of this is the Madonna-Whore complex, the common belief that all women fall into two categories: the kind you marry and the kind you sleep with. Of course, a lot of people overlook the fact that this notion was founded back when abstinence was the only form of birth control and education was awarded only to women who wanted to be nuns (another reason why we are all so fortunate to live in this day and age). Isn’t it about time we got over that? The fact that we exercise sexual responsibility does not make for lack of morals. It simply means that we have grown up, wised up and become unafraid to be accountable for our actions. The time has come to make our bed and lie in it (with who, however, is entirely up to us and not anyone else’s business).
I don’t like hospitals. The waiting, the scowls from over-worked doctors, the smell of disinfectant and the itchy gowns and the bureaucracy required for a complete check- up. I would even go as far to say that I hate hospitals. However, the fact remains that I love myself. I value my health and wish not to compromise it for careless reasons. This is precisely why I put myself through all of that, because I owe it to myself. And hopefully, when love finally does come along, I won’t need to request a blood and tissue sample before I embrace it, without fear.
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