Skip to main content

World AIDS Day

In the mid-1980's I was working for South Sefton Health Authority.  Based at Fazakerley Hospital in Liverpool, I was part of a small team of Health Promotion Officers who'd drive around north Liverpool in an old double-decker bus.  The lower deck had been converted into a creche, while the upper deck housed a tiny clinic area and an information resource centre.  For the most part, our team handed out leaflets and played videos  - anti-smoking, healthy nutrition, oral hygiene, etc.  One of the leaflets was the infamous AIDS tombstone leaflet intended to terrify people into using condoms to slow the spread of this rampant disease which would, it seemed at the time, lead to us all having to step round corpses in the streets.

And while people certainly have died from AIDS, (or from the treatments given to control it, especially in those early years), many who now live with the HIV virus no longer need fear an automatic death sentence.  Apparently, a person with HIV can live just as long as someone without it.  No-one can say exactly how long that might be, of course - you might as well ask how long's a piece of string.  However, the stigma around HIV still lingers.

A friend of mine, Ali, has posted a well-written blog about his experiences of living with HIV.  I encourage you all to click on the link, take the time to read it and watch the short video.  Click here.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

A Cure for Aging?

"All that we profess to do is but this, - to find out the secrets of the human frame; to know why the parts ossify and the blood stagnates, and to apply continual preventatives to the effort of time.  This is not magic; it is the art of medicine rightly understood.  In our order we hold most noble -, first, that knowledge which elevates the intellect; secondly, that which preserves the body.  But the mere art (extracted from the juices and simples) which recruits the animal vigour and arrests the progress of decay, or that more noble secret which I will only hint to thee at present, by which heat or calorific, as ye call it, being, as Heraclitus wisely taught, the primordial principle of life, can be made its perpectual renovator...." Zanoni, book IV, chapter II, by Edward Bulwer-Lytton, first published in 1842. Oroboros keyring - Spooky Cute Designs The idea of being able to achieve an immortal life is probably as old as human life itself.  Folklore and myt...

Remembering Richie Tattoo Artist's Studio

Richard in the street entrance to his tattoo studio in Liverpool. The vertical sign next to Richard is now in the Liverpool Tattoo Museum. Yesterday, my sister Evelyn, Richard and myself stood outside Richard's old tattoo studio and looked up at the few remaining signs, whose paint has now mostly flacked away to reveal bare wood. On the studio's window are stick-on letters which read, "Art", where once it boldly announced his presence as the city's only "Tattoo Artist".  I can remember him buying that simple plastic lettering from an old-fashioned printer's shop. This was in 1993, not long after he'd opened the studio and before he could afford better signs. After he'd patiently stuck them onto the glass we realised that from the outside the sign read "Artist Tattoo", so we had to carefully peel the letters off the window and have another go, laughing over having made such an obvious error yet worried in case we spoiled the letteri...

Dear Diary...

Do you keep a diary? Why did you start it, and, if you started one then stopped, why was that? What sort of things do (or did) you write about? I ask as, as a long-time diarist myself, there is an interesting piece in The Guardian today which talks about one woman's diary habit, which she began at the age of fourteen. I started a diary around that age too, but destroyed it after my mother accused me of using cocaine.  A stern scene followed, with both parents perched ram-rod straight in their armchairs, while I was subjected to a heated inquisition. Where had I bought it, and who from? Didn't I know such things led to death and doom? I struggled to decipher their bewildering accusations, until Mum blurted out, "I read it in your diary!" To find my diary, Mum would first have had to rummage through my dressing table, obviously when I wasn't around to protest. Her intrusion on my privacy was assumed by both parents to be acceptable, and now, with this handwritten c...