— from Leif —

December first is the thirtieth anniversary of World AIDS Day. Until  actor Rock Hudson’s death three years earlier in October 1985, most here were unaware of the looming worldwide pandemic. The cause and risks of transmission were unidentified.

In the first decade, 250,000 Americans had contracted AIDS and 200,000 had died of it. Those numbers roughly doubled in the following decade. In 2016 over 1 million Americans had the disease caused by HIV the Human Immunodeficiency Virus, with about 40,000 new infections. It now costs about $400,000 to treat someone with the disease. $26 billion is spent annually by HIV/AIDS programs.

I remember the day when nurses became scared to touch someone they cared for with AIDS. In my first week volunteering in an AIDS hospice I had to decide whether to sit down and share a bowl of popcorn a resident offered to me. This is where one’s science molds one’s professional heart and fear wars with one’s convictions.

To me this is the day to remember that many measures to combat this pandemic were first hampered by the battling egos of medical researchers, moralists believing AIDS was literally the righteous judgment of God, and many who felt it could not happen to anyone in their own “tribe.” We feared toilet seats. And the virus raged like a wildfire through those at the margins of society and singed us all.

It is a day to remember what we have learned about ourselves, our “Human Deficiencies.”

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