Special Sauce and Other Alternative Therapies

Since my last post I’ve been working on a new hiv therapy that uses Big Macs to combat the virus.  It’s going really well.

It’s one of the many irritating as shit ironies of this whole thing that I have been so fucking healthy in my life lately and now this.  I conquered my depression, I was diligent with my exercise and yoga practice, I am fucking gluten free, damn it!  HOW DID THIS HAPPEN!?  So, in some form of personal protest, I had one Big Mac a day for 3 days.  Never felt better. 

One of my other “alternative” therapies is Lauricidin.  Which, in my house, we now refer to as, TRUEBLOOD.  Like, I started this Saturday.  Saturday night I was feeling like I was getting a cold which a week into an hiv positive diagnosis can make you feel like you’re getting dead- and I did a 1/4 scoop of Lauricidin and woke up like a Disney Princess.  A Disney Princess with hiv but a Disney Princess no less.  Now Disney will probably sue me. Anyway.  The chemical name is monolaurin and it’s something my “Guru”, as I call her, suggested we take.  Incidentally, since I am a pussy right now and am blogging anonymously, please feel free to email me at hivishilarious@yahoo.com and I will point you in her direction.  You can read more about it here and order it as well http://lauricidin.com/about/ but I shit you not, this is something the world should be taking.  I’m experiencing a few shit-tastic side effects in my first few days of dosing but thats only beause it’s detoxing me.  The benefits are insane.  And imagine how great it’s going to work when I stop eating Big Macs :). 

I had about 4 meltdowns total from Friday to last night, and I gotta tell ya, I love Xanax.  And the movie, Elf.  Elf really helps when you have hiv. My Husband and I attempted a night away to escape from hiv  (I guess we assumed it would just stay at the house with the cat) that started off miserably .  I enjoyed an anxiety attack under a fake palm tree with a martini that was almost as bad as my diagnosis.  I couldn’t stop crying.  Here we were having cocktails (our last cocktails by the way as according to Dr. Weil- it’s only a glass or two of red for us from now on) trying to pretend we weren’t, we aren’t, we don’t, and I couldn’t.  So my Husband let me cry and told the Bartender I hated my drink and to give me a Sangria because I have hiv.  Just kidding about the last part.  But he told me he said it and it made me laugh.  We went to dinner and when a 75yr old woman nursing her 3rd GnT announced to the hostess that she “needs to be seated….I’m a diabetic!”, we looked at each other and he whispered quietly to me, “well we’re hiv positive you old bitch”.  It was fun.

A week into my diagnosis I have become a firm believe that only people living with this disease should be allowed to write anything about it on the internet.  I swear to God.  You would gain more encouraging feedback if you were to google, “I’m going to take a bath in acid”.  I mean honestly, I may as well google ” hiv”, and watch Schindler’s List while listening to The Christmas Shoes because the shit people write just pretty much assures you your liver is going to fail, you are going to shit your pants and lose all your friends, and on the same day you will die.  And that’s not the case. And I know that but for a google whore like me- to not research this on the internet is so out of my comfort zone.  But I’m done now.  Also….if you’re going to buy a book about this nonsense, make sure it was written recently. Like within the last couple of years.  I read an entire book on hiv nutrition last night which convinced me that I would die like, tomorrow, shitting my pants and overdosing on vitamin c and it wasn’t until I looked to see the publishing date (1998) that I realized I had just turned myself into a Joni Mitchell listening, shit show over nothing.

Today I spoke to a Counselor from an incredible organization called, Philly Fight.  You can visit them at http://www.fight.org/  This is the first person- aside from friends and family who don’t want me to die- that has assured me, I am not going to die.  He actually told me that I will live “a normal life”.  Normal.  And look, I’m not an asshole. I know what I have.  But I also don’t smoke, I’m not drinking draino, I’m going to eat my vegetables and do some more yoga and I’m going to have the normalist fucking life you ever did see.