Chapter Thirty-nine
I must’ve been out cold for a day or so. When I woke up, I was inside a hospital room. “Rise and shine, sunshine,” said an overweight nurse who spoke in a Southern accent.
“Where am I?” I stretched and looked at the keloids that now covered my entire body. Quickly I tried to hide them beneath the covers because I was embarrassed.
“You’re at Mercy, darling. You’ve been here since Tuesday.” She poured a cup of water for me.
“What’s today?”
“Friday.” She pulled the curtains back to let in sunlight. “Dr. Muzar will be in shortly, okay?” She didn’t wait for my response before leaving the room.
I sat up and tried to get comfortable on the twin-sized mattress, but it was no use. The IV in my arm made it impossible.
“Ms. Franklin, I’m Dr. Muzar.” The tall, well-built Caucasian gentleman spoke softly as he entered. “How are you feeling today?”
“I’ve been better.” I licked around my crusty, dry lips to make them look better. My saliva was thick and smelly. My teeth needed to be brushed twice.
“Well, I’m here to talk about your test results.” He took a seat next to the bed.
“Test results?” I asked.
“Yes. When you were dropped off in emergency the other day, we thought an emergency surgery was necessary. It originally appeared that several of your nerve endings might have been damaged as a result of the beating you endured. As a precaution, we test for pregnancy, all forms of hepatitis, HIV, and AIDS.”
My heart skipped four beats as I waited for his diagnoses. “Lay it on me,” I said and held my breath. With my luck and bad karma, I was bound to have something.
“Ms. Franklin, your labs came back positive for both pregnancy and HIV.”
“Please tell me this a joke.” Tears began to gather in the corner of my eyes.
“I’m sorry. I can’t do that.”
“Am I going to die?” Panic was evident in my tone.
“We all will die one day, but HIV is not a death sentence. With proper treatment and a medicine regime, you should be able to live a fairly long life.” He patted my shoulder, and gave me some paperwork to read over about the diagnosis. “Do you have any questions?” he asked. When I didn’t respond, he said he’d give me a few minutes alone and that sometime later a counselor would be around to speak with me.
No doubt I needed time to let the realness of my situation marinate. With tears running down my face, I wanted to die right then and there. I couldn’t believe I had HIV. Not that long ago I had been living life without a care in the world, and today I’d received what I thought was a death sentence. Suddenly the room started to spin, and I felt like I was going to throw up. Desperately I scanned the hospital room for something, anything that could be used as a weapon, but I was too much of a coward to end my own life, so I closed my eyes and prayed the Lord would just take me now. For hours I sat and reflected on my lifetime of poor choices, and then I remembered that every action had a consequence. I had put out so much negative energy into the world that finally, I reasoned, it was only fitting to get a positive HIV test.
After crying myself to sleep, I woke up from a nap and called Cash. I didn’t know why, but I needed to hear his voice. Maybe he could tell me that everything would be okay, maybe he would encourage me to take another test, or maybe he would just sit in silence with me on phone. I didn’t really know what Cash would do, but I desperately needed him.
“Hello.” He cleared his throat. It was 3:10 p.m., and he sounded like he was just waking up.
“Baby, where are you? I need you,” I cried as soon as I heard his voice.
“Chanel, I’m asleep.”
“I need you, Cash, please,” I begged, feeling so alone and afraid.
“You are a big girl. You don’t need me holding your hand.” Without another word he hung up.
Later that day the hospital sent a social worker named Ric’quel to talk with me, and she explained that this was no longer the death sentence it used to be. “With medication, prayer, and a positive attitude, you could possibly live longer, Chanel.” She patted my arm, only after asking if it was okay to do so.
“What about my baby? Will it come out sick?” Honestly the baby was the least of my concerns right now, but I did need to know.
Ric’quel went on to explain the new plan, treatment, and delivery procedures in place for positive mothers. “There is a very good possibility your baby will be born healthy, without the HIV virus,” she said.
Although I genuinely appreciated her support and concern, I felt my days were numbered as well as my unborn child’s. I couldn’t bear the burden of guilt I would endure if he or she was born positive. Instantly, I once again regretted the way I chose to live my life. Had I appreciated the small things life had to offer, I may not have been in this mess. I wished I’d made Cash wear a condom the first time we had sex. I also wished I’d requested that Cash provide me with his medical information before I let him hit it raw.
My mind went back to that night in Cash’s sister’s basement, and again I felt nauseated. I was so eager to drop my panties for a nigga I thought could change my life, while the love of my life was at home waiting for me with loving arms. I had so many regrets about the way shit was turning out for me, but the biggest regret of them all was calling Dominic to tell him my status. I prayed like hell that I hadn’t infected him with my risqué behavior.