Chapter 11

ELEVEN

LONDON

The Realisation

Later that day, hungover and sitting in a sterile consulting room at the hospital, Vic played over in her mind what an HIV consultant should look like. She was pleasantly surprised when a naturally pretty woman in her early thirties, dressed in a casual navy suit with a plain white T-shirt underneath, and sporting trendy white trainers, entered the room. Her brown bob was short and sleek, her face light of make-up.

‘Victoria?’ The woman came towards her, holding out her hand.

Vic stood up and shook the woman’s soft hand.

‘So sorry to keep you waiting. I’m Dr Ragland. We are going to be seeing a lot of each other, so please do feel free to call me Anna. In fact, I insist that you do.’ The doctor’s face was open, her demeanour friendly and engaging.

Pushing back the tears, Vic felt her shoulders drop. She took a deep breath before whispering, ‘Hi.’

‘Please, take a seat. How are you feeling today? ’

Vic sat down and burst into tears. ‘Frightened. I just feel frightened.’

‘Well, let me try and alleviate some of your fears.’ The doctor handed Vic a tissue from the box on the table. ‘Have you spoken to anyone yet about your diagnosis?’

Vic shook her head. ‘Nobody I love. I called Terrence Higgins, though. They were amazing.’

‘Yes. Good. I’m glad you’ve done that. And did reception confirm which address you would like your correspondence sent to?’

Victoria nodded. ‘Yes. Everything is going to my mother’s house.’

That morning, Vic’s intention had been to head into work to take her mind off everything, but on her way back into London, she realised that she just couldn’t face it. In fact, she couldn’t face anyone or anything. So instead, she had left a message for Ray – a harmless lie, telling him that she was dealing with an emergency in Windsor and that she hoped it would be OK to use up her remaining annual leave and go back in the new year.

With Orla thankfully having already left for Ireland, Vic hadn’t had to see her, either. And as for Nate, she was relieved that they had discussed meeting up after Christmas so that when she did have to relay the life-changing news, she would be armed with all the information and would hopefully have all her facts in order. Saying that, though, maybe he did know that he had it already, and the reason he hadn’t said anything when he spoke to her was that he was also playing the same waiting game about telling her. Or maybe he didn’t know anything, because if she hadn’t said yes to a general sexual health check, knowing what she knew now about HIV, she could have been carrying the virus for years.

Dr Anna was looking through a stack of notes in front of her. ‘So we’re waiting for the results of a second test, but looking at your bloods, I think we can safely say that you do have the virus.’

‘OK,’ Vic whispered.

‘Without blowing your mind with too much information at this stage, would you like me to give you an overview of what having HIV means?’

‘Yes, yes, please.’ That morning, Vic had been on the computer at Orla’s, looking up every piece of information she could find on HIV, but the more she read, the more terrified she felt. ‘I’ve been reading stuff online and?—’

‘Probably best you use me as your world wide web from now on,’ Dr Anna said. ‘Depending on who’s doing the writing, some of those articles may not be as factual as us medical professionals would like. I’m afraid a lot of people have very skewed opinions on the subject.’

‘Reading between the lines, I think if I had leprosy, it’d be more socially acceptable.’ Vic let out a massive sigh.

‘It’s going to be tough, including dealing with the stigma that, sadly, is out there, but you’ve got this, we’ve got this.’ Dr Anna leant forward and looked directly at Vic. ‘So, just to give you a clear explanation, when someone contracts HIV, the virus begins to take over specific cells in the immune system, called CD4 cells. When these cells replicate, the HIV cells inside them also replicate. HIV hijacks the cellular machinery of CD4 cells to reproduce and shed more HIV, which means the viral load increases. As the HIV viral load increases, the number of healthy CD4 cells decreases, as they are destroyed when they create HIV copies.’

Vic screwed her face up.

‘Sorry, I realise that’s a lot to take in, Victoria, but it is important to have the facts. In brief, though, all you need to know is that once treatment starts, our aim is for you to have a low viral load and a high CD4 count. Then we will have your HIV under control. The good news is that your levels are such that I don’t recommend we start treatment yet. Once it is started, you are on it for life and, as with all medications, there are likely to be side-effects. From now on, we will monitor you here regularly, but if you’re feeling unwell at any time, you can walk straight in, and we will check out what’s going on for you.’

‘So, I can live a normal life until then… until the time comes that my viral load rises and CD4 count drops?’

‘That’s right. You must, of course, always use a condom when having sex from now on. And do your best to keep yourself healthy, eat the right foods, try not to smoke, or drink too much alcohol. Always use sunscreen, too. This leaflet is worth a read.’

Vic cast her eyes down it and began to skim-read . HIV can be spread as follows: vaginal/frontal and anal sex without a condom, sharing drug-injecting equipment, sharing sex toys, mother-to-child transmission, during pregnancy, birth or breastfeeding and coming into contact with contaminated blood. HIV cannot be spread by kissing, hugging, shaking hands, sharing space with someone, sharing a toilet, sharing household items such as cups, plates, cutlery or bed linen, or any other general social contact.

‘I guess that makes my decision on having children or not a whole lot easier.’

‘I was coming to that – I’m so sorry, Victoria. I should have waited to hand you that leaflet,’ the doctor stuttered.

‘I read about it online this morning and didn’t allow it to register, to be honest,’ Vic said. ‘I’ve never had a burning urge to have a child. In fact, I’ve been in a real dilemma as to what I should do with regards to starting a family. But when you’re told it’s not any kind of option, that’s a whole different thought process, isn’t it?’ Vic’s voice wobbled.

‘Treatments are progressing all the time,’ Dr Anna replied, with a softness to her voice.

‘I need to be realistic here.’ Vic was suddenly matter-of-fact. ‘ And spinning it on its head, my decision about having children has been made for me. Maybe that’s a positive out of this whole awful mess. And I’m not stupid, Anna. It’s going to be difficult enough dealing with me having this bloody virus, let alone throwing trying to have a family into the mix.’

‘Keep the conversation going, though, Victoria, because you may say that now, but all kinds of feelings are likely to engulf you. And I’d be lying if I said all of this is going to be plain sailing, but I will do my damned best to make sure it’s as easy as I can make it from my end. And if you decide you do want a child in the future, then we will talk about that again.’

Victoria took a huge breath. ‘Thank you. Thank you so much.’

‘So, I will see you again early February.’ Dr Anna shut Vic’s file. ‘You will get a letter confirming everything, but as I said, any worries, please call this number here, or if you are really concerned about anything at all, then just turn up and we will do our best to find somebody to see you.’ Dr Anna handed Vic a card. ‘Do you have any plans for Christmas?’

‘I don’t feel like celebrating anything, but I’m going to my mum’s in Windsor. You?’

‘Oh, just a quiet one for me.’ Dr Anna stood up and squeezed Vic’s shoulder. ‘Be kind to yourself, Victoria, and I’ll see you in a few weeks.’

The overground Tube rattled its way back to near Orla’s flat. Just days before, Vic had not even heard of the term CD4, let alone known that cells of that name were surging around her body, protecting her from all kinds of infection.

Also, how ironic that art , the subject she had practised and loved all her life, was also the abbreviation for antiretroviral treatment – the drugs that would eventually keep her alive.

Exhausted from her jumping train of thought, Vic shut her eyes. A vision of handsome, wild-haired Nate sprang to mind. She was surprised at her own self-control in not picking up the phone to him and screaming out that she had HIV and it was all his fault, but as she had thought before, once the secret was out, it was out, and it was huge, and it was hurtful, and it was terrifying. And the longer she kept it in, the easier she felt it would be.

Her brief rest was interrupted by a text from Mandy.

Vic! Where are you? How are you? We need to talk honeymoon, it’s been an age. Christmas is madness, but let’s set a date for new year. Love you x

Vic hadn’t even thought about how she would tell her friends. She expected Orla to not even break her stride, but dear, sweet, innocent Mandy… She had no idea how she would react. And what if they didn’t support her? What if they couldn’t cope with it all?

To try and turn her thoughts away from the darkness, she reached for the small art pad in her bag and began to turn the pages. Her etching of rowers on the Thames at Putney made her stop and think back to that beautiful summer’s day in July, when she’d got up early and sat on a bench in complete peace, aside birds singing in a tree above her, and had sketched the relaxing river scene.

She wished she could bottle the feeling that using her creativity gave her, and take a sip of it every time she was feeling low. Maybe that was it: she should engineer doing what she loved for herself, every day. Because she was under no illusion that from now on, there were going to be good days and bad days, and sad days when the elixir of art may be her saving grace.

But now, just for a few days, and with Christmas afoot, she would pretend that everything was fine and dandy. That she didn’t have a life-changing health condition, and that she didn’t have an insurmountable mountain to climb, and that whatever happened, everything was going to be all right.

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