Daniel Harris reflects on living with HIV in prison, finding unexpected love, and facing the painful possibility of letting that love go.
On September 28, 2000, I was called to medical and given the results of my HIV test. I was positive. It’s a day I’ll never forget. The CID nurse, Ms. Ellis, was one of the sweetest people I’ve ever known. As tears glistened in her eyes, I exited her office dry-eyed to hurry to my cell, where I could be alone to cry and mourn all I had lost, not knowing if I would live or die. In my emotional state, I was soon back in ad-seg, where I’d live for the next 10 years.
Learning to Live With HIV in Prison
By 2011, I’d fought my way back to sanity and decided to live a life devoid of sex. Never would I chance passing this disease on to another as it was given to me. Then I read an article in a newspaper about research being released early that showed HIV patients who maintain high CD-4 counts and undetectable viral loads cannot pass on the HIV virus. It was a Godsend. Being undetectable made my virus untransmitable. Men were safer having sex with me than with another person who might have caught the virus since their last HIV test.
In all the years since then, living with HIV in prison seldom limited my sex partners, and I never had sex with anyone who didn’t know I was infected. Then I fell madly in love with a beautiful young man. We had wonderful sex. He made me believe in love again and hope for a future together beyond the prison gates. He had trusted me from the start. Knew I was infected and loved me as I’d never been loved, until he tore me during sex. Not badly. I only bled a tiny bit, but the sight of red blood shook his resolve. Even though I knew the HIV virus attaches itself to white blood cells, not red ones, and the white ones are smaller so more often present during intercourse, seeing the red blood made the danger more real for both of us.
Giving Up Sex for the Man I Love
Seeing this wonderful man endangered did something to me as well. How could I say I love him and continue to take chances, no matter how slight, with his life and health? Even without sex, he still loves me. Sits with me. Holds me in his arms. Gives me morning hugs and goodnight kisses. I just can’t do it any more. So most days, I cry for all I’ve lost while thanking God for even such a short time to know such love.
Prison seems a strange place to find such love. It was unexpected to say the least. There are nearly 30 years between our ages. He’s young, gorgeous, and in the prime of his life. I’m old and damaged beyond repair. I don’t want to be a burden. Not sure what I’d do if one day I looked in his eyes and instead of seeing love, I saw I’d become a commitment he couldn’t find a way out of.
How Can I Let Him Go?
The questions I have to ask are simple: How can I let him go? And if I do, how can I live without him? We both know what we need to do, and neither of us wants to say it. I wish I could be strong and just walk away. I’ll never be able to do it. There are tears in my eyes as I write these words. I love him. That’s my truth. He’s the last man who will ever touch me. He is my perfect mate, the other half of my soul. I’ll never forget these beautiful months together.
The Continuing Pain of Living With HIV in Prison
After all these years, HIV is still destroying lives. It’s time to find a cure. It’s been too long. It seems the pharmaceutical companies don’t want to cure HIV. They make too much money selling medications to treat it as well as the medications that keep people from catching it. That leaves people like me crying for all we’ve lost while they fill their bank accounts, profiting on our tears.
