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Stranger in her own town Nadine struggles for acceptance, and has started a support group for others who are living with HIV and AIDS Wife, mother supports others and struggles for understanding By KELLEY ALBRECHT CAVE JUNCTION - It's the subtleties many people take for granted that she notices most. Like encountering an old friend at the supermarket, only to be greeted from the other end of a shopping cart. No handshake, no hug. She is a foreigner in her own town. Untouchable. Yet to her children she is mother. To her husband she is lover. And she is a pillar of support to others. She is Nadine, and she is HIV positive. Living with this illness involves more than pain and medication and $1,500 a month in medical bills. It's a fight for acceptance and understanding and compassion. It's one she wages in this small town she returned to in 1993 after a failed marriage. She arrived with two children, a $15,000 nest egg, a healthy immune system and a broken heart. She bought an old house that was modest but perfect, surrounded by black locust trees and a giant oak with a rope swing. Life here, she thought, would be better. She would find a simple man, a "hillbilly" she could love. Nadine, who is identified only by first name in this story to protect her family's identity, joined a church in Takilma where she had many friends. She began to feel at home and to heal spiritually. One day at a friend's house she met a man helping in the garden. His name was Larry. He was bright, with a contagious grin that broke into deep dimples, a blond ponytail, strong weathered hands and a wide-brimmed leather hat. She noticed him at church and asked about him. He was taking care of his mentally ill sister and ailing father, she was told. He did maintenance and landscaping for elderly folk who loved him. Nadine was intrigued. She began spending time with Larry and was attracted to his warmth and compassion. He was always helping people in need. He understood people's pain. But she learned that people who have such compassion often have experienced pain of their own. In Larry's case, she said, it was a history of drug use. He had overcome it. She had accepted it, but she didn't fully understand it. She saw Larry as mature and devout in his Christianity. She knew he was a good man. They spent almost every day together. Larry's enthusiasm and loving nature made life for Nadine a joy. As they became intimate, she asked him if he had ever taken an AIDS test. He said he had at the end of his addiction. Larry wanted to marry and start a family, one thing he had yet to do in life. He seemed in a hurry. After her difficult marriage, Nadine was reluctant. But they got engaged, and she became pregnant. She knew the Christian thing to do was to get married, so she did, but it wasn't with her whole heart. A routine test four months into her pregnancy reported no problems. Both mother and child were healthy. But Larry was starting to get sick. His frame seemed gaunt. He went to the doctor, but extensive tests for cancer came up with nothing. Their baby boy was born. Despite Larry's condition, he glowed. He finally had the life he had wanted. He slept with his child on his chest every night. During the days he continued working for the elderly and in a vineyard. He and Nadine created a huge garden on a 10-acre piece of property, where they spent much of their time. But his sickness worsened. The tests continued until finally he was tested for HIV. He was positive. Larry left the doctor's office believing he had three to six months to live. Nadine said he went straight from the doctor's office to a liquor store. Their boy was four months old. Nadine had her own blood tested and, two weeks later, walked out of the doctor's office knowing she, too, was HIV positive. She was numb. Larry was devastated. Guilt and shame consumed him. One day a county nurse came to their door. She had been sent by the health department to explain the disease and the lifestyle changes Nadine and Larry would need around the house. Get rid of their cats, she said, because their dirty claws could carry germs that might be too much for their immune systems. Keep the house clean. Stop nursing. That was when reality hit Nadine. To her, nursing was a beautiful and vital part of motherhood. To give it up left her hollow. The nurse listened kindly to their fears and grief on this visit and many others. There was no stigma or prejudice, Nadine said. Life did not get better. Larry's dog was hit by a car and killed. His father fell behind on payments for the land where Larry and Nadine had planted their garden and the old owners shut off the water, threatening to take it back. Social Security turned them down for supplemental security income. They needed a break. Larry borrowed money from his sister, and they bought tickets for a concert. They dressed up. Larry wore his favorite polyester pants and the pearly-buttoned blue cowboy shirt he'd worn at their wedding. They danced every dance, laughing and joking with old friends. Larry's eyes shone electric blue. His smile was sincere. It was like old times. The next day they took the kids camping. Larry showed Nadine and her oldest son how to fish, pulling out trout as fast as they could cast. That night the sky was awash in glitter; Larry and Nadine lost themselves in the enchantment. In the morning they caught fish for breakfast and barbecued them over a fire. On the ride home Nadine felt at peace - like she had before HIV. She thought, maybe Larry could get on with life. Maybe things would get better. But in the weeks to follow, strange people started coming over to see Larry, staying late into the night. Nadine believed Larry was lapsing back into his drug addiction. The daily chores fell upon Nadine, and she was so worn out she could hardly sleep at night. Her pastor advised her to leave and take her children. Nadine was torn. She felt Larry needed her. She wished he could forgive himself, to take hold of the good that was left in his life, but she didn't believe his heart would let him. Late one night, Larry woke up Nadine. He was high on drugs, she thought, and he wanted to talk. She told him to leave her alone and remembered this reply: "You probably wish I was dead, don't you?" "Yes," she said. At 5 a.m. that morning she was awakened again. This time he was soaking wet and hallucinating, babbling incomprehensibly. It was too much. Nadine took the kids and went to a friend's house, where she called Larry's father to tell him to pick Larry up. She felt as if she'd abandoned him, as if she should be there. Larry's father took him to his sister's. When Nadine called later that night, his sister said Larry had gotten restless and wandered off into the woods behind her house. When he had not returned by the next morning, Nadine and Larry's sister searched the woods. When they found nothing, they called the police. Adults aren't considered "missing" until 48 hours have passed. Nadine filed a report that said Larry was suffering from dementia caused by HIV. After 48 hours, she called the police back. They reviewed the report but didn't conduct a search. There could be several reasons for his disappearance. Nadine called her pastor, Dan Robinson, for help. He organized a search party with church members that combed the area for half a day. Nothing. Robinson drove Nadine and her kids up to Larry's favorite place at Happy Camp, but he wasn't there. She wrote two love letters and hung them in plastic bags in places he might find. Almost daily she went to their garden, calling his name. Three times a week she drove to Grants Pass, hanging up fliers with his picture. She showed the picture to anyone she met. Sometimes people said they had seen him. The church organized two more unsuccessful searches as the months passed. Meanwhile, she tried to take care of her children and the garden, but word of her HIV status was out. No one came over to see how she was. Friends would greet her quickly, never offering a hug, even when she needed one badly. If she visited, she had to leave when the mosquitoes came out because people were afraid they might get bit by the same bug and get infected. Everyone was afraid of her. Six months after Larry's disappearance, a police officer came to the door. He greeted Nadine warmly and asked if he could come in. He asked for her to sit down. Her stomach lurched. They found some remains. They might be your husband's, he said. A dog had dragged her husband's skull into someone's yard. Nadine cried. The skull had been found by his sister's house. Right where she had looked so many times before. Although the police finally began their official search, Nadine's friends from church found his remains. They returned from the woods with Larry's wedding ring. A few days later Nadine drove to the morgue to pick up Larry's remains for burial. She couldn't afford the services of a funeral home. The coroner handed her a cardboard box with a garbage bag inside - the same one used the day they had found his bones up in the woods. The official cause of death was listed as AIDS. Pastor Robinson offered Nadine a small casket fit for a child, and they buried Larry at the church, under a canopy of pine. Nadine drove herself to distraction in any way she could. It made things bearable. She hung out with strangers, looking for someone to talk to. Even her friends at church seemed uneasy around her. She paid less and less attention to her kids. When her toddler wandered onto the dirt road between properties one day, a neighbor called the state. A woman from the agency arrived and expressed concern about the lack of supervision. For the first time in a long while someone actually wanted to know how she was doing. Nadine talked about her fear, loneliness and the new life she was unsure how to lead. The caseworker offered to pay for 40 hours of day care per week so Nadine could try to build a new life. Just finding day care proved almost impossible. Finally, though, a friend opened a day-care center and welcomed Nadine's children, and she began finding her way again. A couple of years passed, and while things weren't great, there was always something sweet that helped her along. One such sweetness was named Joseph. He was visiting a relative who lived next door, and was out in the driveway playing with the neighborhood kids. Nadine watched out the window. He was handsome and lighthearted with a good sense of humor. When Nadine brought home a piano, she asked Joseph and his cousin to help unload it. Afterward she offered them drinks but confessed that she was HIV positive and would understand if they didn't want them. Joseph said, "No problem." He was familiar with HIV. His brother and sister-in-law had died of AIDS. He and Nadine married in the summer of 1999. Because of her virus, they always took precautions to make sure their sex was safe. But twice their condoms broke, and Nadine was pregnant again. When she went to see her doctor, she was instead greeted by a young nurse in a white coat and glasses. She told Nadine that because of her HIV, she would probably die of cancer before the end of the pregnancy. She said the baby would probably have AIDS and die early if it even survived birth. She recommended abortion, Nadine said. Nadine left the appointment shaking. She went home feeling hopeless, so she called a woman she knew with HIV and asked for advice. The woman armed Nadine with information and sent her back to the doctor. Once again the nurse came in. Nadine told the nurse the facts: There was a 24 percent chance the baby would get HIV, and that chance could be reduced to 8 percent if the baby was given AZT after the birth. Nadine pointed out that she was HIV positive; she did not have AIDS. She did not believe in abortion. She did believe that people were put on this earth to experience life. Health was a blessing, but love was more important. If the baby lived only two months but was loved, it had fulfilled its purpose. She was going to have this baby. Her new baby was a boy. And at two days, two months and four months, his HIV tests were negative. After the birth, Nadine began having a recurring dream: She was drowning in a vast blue ocean. Up came a school of whales from the depths, and she felt frightened. But just as she thought her breath would fail her, a whale scooped her up and took her to shore. The dream still guides her today. From it she interprets that the people who share her death sentence are her salvation. Last year, she formed HIV/AIDS Group Support, or HAGS. It consists of heterosexual women who have been infected by their husbands or partners. She finds the name HAGS more than fitting. All of the women feel lost and alone and untouchable, she says, and sometimes only find support in each other. They meet several times a month to share and overcome these feelings. Nadine has also found peace in her spirituality. Despite the illness, she's says she must stay positive. She tries to forget self-pity so she can love her friends and family and others with HIV. But overcoming the shame and humility HIV has forced upon her and the women like her is a daily struggle. "In spite of our great achievements and high moral standards, because it's HIV, people are looking for and expecting a filthy secret," she says. "What's horrible is, when they dig, they will find one." With HIV, all it takes is one bad choice, one mistake made along the way. If she can accept that mistake, she hopes others will too. After all, she says, "We're all human." Mail Tribune Home | Ottaway Newspapers, Inc. | Dow Jones & Co., Inc. | Privacy | Contact Us Copyright � 2001 Mail Tribune, Inc.