Some assignments are by consent only. The sort of thing that would fall into this category is where the client has a disease or disorder that may cause physical or emotional distress to the Caregiver. This catchy phrase includes both getting a nasty disease AND getting more scabs over those emotional scars.
This time around it means the caregivers comfort level around persons with H.I.V. or A.I.D.S.
I remember very well what happened the first time we all, the global we, had encounters around the exotic gay-mans disease.
Isn't that what they all said? Gay man's disease?
The first patient in the Regional Hospital admitted with full-blown AIDS was not only in isolation, but treated by Doctors and Nurses wearing moonsuits. It was just as well, I suppose. Ignorance might travel through osmosis.
Two of my friends had the misfortune to be born with hemophaelia. Oh, isn't that the bastard monarch's disease? Isn't that what they said?
What a load of shit it all is when the notorious they start talking. My friends, brothers, both contracted HIV-AIDS courtesy of the Canadian Red Cross's tainted blood supply. OH they got $100,000 in compensation before they died. Lucky them./
A girl I knew in Church had a rotter of a husband. She had married him straight out of High School, having met him in Youth group and being a fine Christian woman, choosing her life partner from what she considered to be a *safe* group of men. Safe all right. He cheated on her, abused her and finally, abandoned her. She went on a Carribean Cruise and had a fling. This was her one and only sex outside of marriage experience. Six months later she was diagnosed with HIV. I think she died of a broken heart.
A friend from the City was just coming to terms with his sexuality. He and his friend took off after graduation and went to New York City; a coming out of sorts. They returned and 5 years later the first of them died a fast HIV-AIDS death. The other contracted lung cancer, stomach cancer, throat cancer.... finally checking out of the Hospital to go home for a Scotch and a smoke.
"Scott, what the hell do you mean, you are going home for a Scotch and a smoke? You have stomach and lung cancer for pity's sake!?"
"Exactly. Come have a shot and a puff with me."
I did so.
----
So the telephone rings and it's my Office calling.
"We want to ask you if you would have a problem caring for someone with HIV-AIDS?"
"No, I am a city girl. Lost a few friends this way. No problem at all."
And it wasn't.
And it isn't.
And it never will be.
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