ADRIENNE'S HIV BLOG – Hivine's Weblog

HIVINE is written by HIV positive women but still with a sense of humour

International Women’s Day



Monday the 8th of March is International Women’s Day – It should be declared a national holiday and all women should have a day off. But women never have a day off, we all know that. Women go through such a lot, especially mothers.  I read somewhere that a mother is only as happy as her happiest child and that is so true.  I had some very heart breaking news this week and I know there is one mother, not to mention one auntie, whose life will never be the same again.

You never know what people are going through. It amazes me that we can carry on sometimes in view of what life throws at us.

Although now is hardly the right time, I think I will definitely have to give up smoking. And not just for health reasons. It seems these days every time I nip out for a crafty fag I am approached by a total nutter.  Yesterday for example I was invited for lunch by a dear friend in an attempt to cheer me up. I nipped out mid course for a crafty rollup, like you do, and within the space of two seconds one had zoomed in on me. “Excuse me love, could I buy a fag off you?”  This is rubbish as there’s no way these tobacco predators are going to cough up-apart from in the literal sense.                                                                                                                                                                                                                        “Sorry, I only have roll ups,” I apologize. This is a good tactic because then they think you are as hard done to as them, which you are of course, otherwise you wouldn’t be smoking filthy roll ups.                                                                                                                                      

 “Thanks love; I’m a paranoid schizophrenic have you got a light?” He lowers his bald head for me to inspect the scars of where they operated on his brain. “Then there’s me elbow.” Don’t these people know I’m squeamish and very likely to faint? “And me leg,” he rolls up his trousers, “Walked into a into a power line on the railway.”

“Oh dear, were you having a bad day?” (maybe not the right thing to say. I do wonder sometimes what I learnt on that counselling course at uni)

“Mi dad wouldn’t give me three pounds for a packet of cigarettes.”   He looked about ninety so god knows how old his poor dad was.  “Then I heard the voices.”

“Well very nice to meet you, sorry, have to get back to my friend now.”

 “I don’t suppose you could spare three pounds could you love?”

“I am absolutely skint. I might not look it but I am.”

 “Never mind love, you’ve got a beautiful smile, can I kiss your hand? “

“No,” I snap rather too quickly.

“I haven’t got rabies,” he growls.

“Well, I’ve got something far worse,” I laugh and he thinks I’m joking.

A similar thing happened when I was at Euston waiting to catch a train back up to Manchester. Went out for a Starbucks and a fag and was swarmed on by fag poachers, beggars and Big Issue sellers. One Big Issue seller was particularly persistent and kept harassing me. I listened to his hard luck stories and his problems with homelessness, addiction, various medical problems etc. Not that I wasn’t sympathetic, I just wanted to be left in peace.  

“Well, we all have our crosses to bear, look at me for instance I’m HIV positive.”

“I’m so sorry,” he flung his arms round me and started to cry. I tried to push him away because he was snivelling on my coat. “I am so, so sorry.”

“It’s alright, really, just leave me alone.”  I wished I’d never said anything. He went away much to my relief, but then he came back.

“I’m so, so sorry,” he started again, resting  his dishevelled head on my shoulder.

I do hope he didn’t have nits.

There’s a moral there somewhere!

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