The [him] moderator wonders about the title of this piece from a CARE magazine. It demonstrates the limits of current one prong PMTCT programmes. She says nothing about birth spacing after the birth of her child and nothing about her own antiretroviral therapy.
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The AIDS Woman
as told to Myat Lwin Lwin Aung
In late 2002, I was not well and had to go to hospital. There I found out I had HIV. After about three months, I was bedridden. I didn't get well for a long time
AIDS: In my village, people call it simply "A." They say only bad people, immoral people, have it. There is no cure. I was going to die. I didn't dare tell anyone. How could I tell my family?
Finally, the headmistress of the primary school in Inn Ywar New Village had a talk with my mother. She told my mother I had AIDS, and offered to introduce me to some groups that could help. Mother told her to do whatever seemed right. That was how I came into contact with CARE, where I got medicine and treatment.
Now my whole family knew I had HIV. They didn't know anything about it and were frightened. They told me, "Don't touch this!" and "Don't touch that!" After I had taken a drink, they washed the cup at once. I sat somewhere and they washed the place. Eating together was out of the question.
I earned a living for this family. I earned money to send my younger sisters and brothers to school, for them to graduate and live like other young people do. Now I was the one bringing shame on the family, humiliating my younger sisters. Why did I get this? Was it my fault? Whatever it was, they called me "the AIDS woman." And they said it like a new swear word.
Ko Htein from CARE explained that HIV cannot spread to family members just by living under the same roof. It does not have to be immediately fatal, either. He talked to my husband, giving him counseling and a blood test. My two little girls also had blood tests. Both my husband and my daughters tested negative, to my great relief.
But I felt inferior. My parents didn't say anything, but my younger sisters gave me a hard time. It went on until I couldn't stand it any more. One day I had a quarrel with my younger sister, and she called me the AIDS woman. That did it. After that, I had to leave my mother's house.
My husband, my little girls and I made a lean-to in a friend's compound and lived under it. My husband drove a trishaw, and I sold lottery tickets; during the water festival I sold beer. We earned enough to eat. During this time, Ko Htein tried to help my family understand my situation. He convinced my younger sisters to attend discussions and training courses on HIV and AIDS, and set up discussion sessions in the neighborhood. My mother didn't accept Ko Htein at first. She said there was no such person in the house, and he shouldn't have come. But after a time, she grew to understand and took us back in. It took about eight months.
Then I faced another major challenge: I got pregnant. My husband had wanted a baby, and though I told him to use a condom, he refused. When I found out I was pregnant, I was worried. What if the baby was infected?
CARE sent me to hospital, where I received counseling and nutrition supplements. The doctors and nurses took good care of me. They showed sympathy and offered encouragement. Yet the closer it got to my due date, the more frightened I became. Was I going to die? If I died, how would my husband go on with a newborn baby? Would the baby be healthy? It would break my heart if the child was born with the virus. Why did I ever try to have this baby? I was frightened. On March 10, 2006, I had a little girl.
I was in good health while I was pregnant. When I give birth, I had to take medicines. The baby had to take medicines too. I gave her milk formula — I had done all I could to prevent the child from getting the virus and I wasn't about to pass it through breastfeeding. CARE taught my whole family and me how to keep the formula bottle and caps clean and how to handle everything. Staff members came to check on us, and if we were not handling the formula the right way, they corrected us. Now both my little girl and I are in good health.
Thanks to CARE, I can take care of myself and my new child. I often go to the CARE office for healthy food and condoms — I need to keep them handy. I also hand out condoms to anyone in the neighborhood who needs them. CARE also has helped me arrange visits to the doctor.
There are a lot of people like me in the village. With CARE's support, 30 of us in the village formed a self-help group for people with HIV. It is called Phyu Sin Metta, Pure Loving Kindness, and I am the vice-chairperson. Our group's first anniversary fell on May 26, 2006. We still depend on CARE's support, but eventually we will have to stand on our own feet.
CARE has done a lot to educate people in my village about HIV and AIDS, so now there are few instances of severe discrimination. There are still some people who discriminate against me. When they're angry with me, they call me the AIDS woman. But I am not afraid of people knowing about my condition. I don't care if they're afraid and do not talk to me. I make my own living, and I have a lot of people who help me.
There is a big difference between now and when I first learned I had HIV. I'm in good health, and I have a happy family life. I never think twice about helping other people like me. One woman who works with me used to think of herself as the walking dead. I encouraged her, and now she is in good health and runs a shop.
I have had failures, too, but I don't let them get to me. We also have had group members pass away. It used to frighten me, but who is immortal?
I have to take care of my little girl, and I still have a lot of work to do for other people living with HIV. But I am ready. I am in good health, and I am going to live.
http://www.care.org/newsroom/articles/2006/11/20061128_myanmar_aids.asp
