Thursday, November 9, 1995
HIV positive woman
explains how AIDS
affects "normal"
by Linda Barlow
ColUgt Pr*ss Strvict
Kelli Lawless Hughes tells it
this way: SO cents could have
saved her from the AIDS virus.
The price of a condom.
That’s far cheaper than the six
AZT pills she swallows daily at
about $2 each. It’s worth the
cost of not having to tell Mom
that one night of sex as a college
freshman eventually will kill her.
Such a small price for someone
who doesn’t expect to see her
30th birthday.
One reckless night in South
Hall at St Ambrose University,
a small Catholic college in
Davenport, lowa, brought her to
this destiny. Just one short-lived
encounter in 1988, when she was
on the rebound after a five-year
relationship with a high school
sweetheart
It was her second sex partner
ever: a man with hemophilia
who contracted HIV from a blood
transfusion.
“I was 18 years old, and 1 nade
a really big mistake. I’m mg
for it big-time,” says Kein, /.6,
of DeWitt, lowa.
Everything has changed.
She looks at TV images of
emaciated AIDS victims with
purplish lesions and knows that
one day it could be her.
Childbirth is no longer an
option. She planned her June 10
wedding knowing that the
bittersweet day would be “her last
big life event.”
Now, a good day is waking up
without foreign lumps or bumps,
enlarged lymph nodes or facial
fungus on her nose. A good day
is not feeling exhausted, not
hearing Sen. Jesse Helms rail
about slashing AIDS spending
and not seeing a romanticized
version of her illness on a soap
opera.
She has gone public with her
story for a reason: She wants to
put a female heterosexual’s face
on AIDS. No, she is not a
prostitute, an intravenous drug
user or a promiscuous woman.
Heterosexual sex is to blame.
“There’s still the
misconception that this is a
disease of gay men,” she says.
“U’s about that people
realize that heterosexual people
can get this disease as well.
“I also want people to know
that I wasn’t promiscuous. This
was a one-time thing -- a one
night stand of sorts - and I got
it.”
For seven years, she
unknowingly carried the virus.
Meanwhile, the man who infected
her knew his diagnosis and didn’t
inform her. He now has AIDS.
“If anyone really wanted to hurt
me, they’d call me a slut, a
One
people
whore. I’m not,” Kelly says. “It
only takes one time.
“But for seven years, I walked
around. There were a lot of ways
other than sex that I very easily
could have exposed someone. I
could have done drugs, shared
needles.” Thank God, she says,
that her husband, Jim, wasn’t
infected. He dated her four and a
half years before her diagnosis, in
August 1994. He proposed three
weeks after she learned she was
HIV-positive.
“On Aug. 12, 1994, at 12:45
p.m., my life was going at 3,000
miles per hour,” Kelli says.
“At 12:46 p.m., I slammed
into a brick wall. My life has
never been the same since.”
Everything has changed.
‘Normal’ People Get
AIDS
It’s hard not to say, “But you
look so normal!” upon first
meeting Kelli.
She is a well-coiffed,
conservatively dressed, career
minded workaholic with curly
brown hair, wire-framed glasses
and a fun sense of humor. She
works for a pharmaceutical firm,
a job that sends her traveling
across the country and gives her
an inside look at the health care
industry that is her lifeline.
Nothing in ner outward
appearance suggests that she is
HIV-positive.
But then, this is her point:
AIDS doesn’t discriminate.
That’s the message this 1991
St. Ambrose University graduate
brings when she speaks to
college students at her alma
mater. AIDS can strike on
Catholic college campuses, too.
She has received a lot of mail
from students, and her story has
made even the toughest of
football players cry.
“I tell them that 50 cents could
have prevented this - a 50-cent
condom could have prevented me
from being here today,” she says.
She and her husband, Jim,
speak to students together.
Jim, who is angry that the man
who infected Kelli didn’t tell her,
asks students to be careful.
“Be responsible as far as
informing whoever you’re
involved with,” he tells them.
“There isn’t a lot of news about
heterosexual transmission, so
people think it can’t happen.
That was one of the biggest
shocks.”
Kelli warns students that, at
age 26, she is focused with death
far sooner than she ever dreamed.
Before her diagnosis, she had
an assortment of unusual health
problems, including two bouts
with shingles. The second time
landed her in the hospital, and she
endured a battery of tests and
prying questions: “Have you
Features
night stand changes
woman's future
ever been an IV drug user or a
prostitute? Have you ever been
transfused” the doctors asked.
“In the hospital, they kept
asking about transfusions,” Kelli
says. “Then when everyone left
the room, I started to think. I
remembered hearing that this guy
was a hemophiliac and had been
transfused. That’s when all the
pieces started coming together.”
Everything has changed.
She’s Not the Only One
Kelli’s situation is not unique.
Many students walk college
campuses afraid to disclose that
they have the HIV virus. The
secrecy and stigma surrounding
the disease is one reason why
AIDS is rampant
Consider this staggering
statistic: One in 500 college
students is infected with HIV.
That estimate, from the
Centers for Disease Control and
the American College Health
One in 500
college
students is
infected with
HIV.
--Centers for
Disease Control
Association, is based on results
of a blind study conducted at 19
American universities where
anonymous blood samples were
tested at campus health centers.
It shows there’s still a whole
lot of risky, condomless sex
going on.
Despite earning an advanced
education, college students aren’t
taking the simple precautions to
save their life. Peer pressure,
lack or maturity and alcohol and
drug use put them at risk for HIV
infection, the CDC says.
Those who do decide to use
condoms often don’t use them
consistently and correctly. Date
rape, an increasing problem on
college campuses, also presents
more of a risk.
In the wake of a national AIDS
epidemic, other studies show that
a devil-may-care attitude still
prevails on campuses:
-The Kinsey Institute recently
surveyed the sexual practices of
600 Midwestern university
students, most of who were white
Christians from small- or
medium-size towns. Eighty
percent of the men and 73 percent
of the women had had sex.
Of those, more than 17 percent
had tried anal sex; 62 percent had
not used a condom the last time
they had intercourse; the men
averaged five one-night stands and
women between three and four.
On average, the men had slept
with eight different partners and
the women six - in the fewer
than four years they have been
sexually active.
-In a recent study by the
American Social Health
Association, 85 percent of
college women surveyed were
sexually active. Alarmingly,
almost half admitted they do not
protect themselves against
sexually transmitted diseases,
including HIV.
Of the women having sex, 96
percent participated in oral sex,
and more than three-fourths of
those never used condoms. Two
thirds did not use condoms for
vaginal sex.
Two-thirds never had a checkup
before sex with a new partner.
And many drink alcohol prior to
sexual activity.
“Alcohol is a critical factor in
risky sexual practices because it
lowers inhibitions and makes
people less likely to use
protection,” says Dr. Linda
Alexander, who helped coordinate
the study.
-AIDS is the No. 1 killer of
Americans age 25-44, the CDC
reports. HIV rates are growing
most rapidly in heterosexual
women, especially in Hispanics
and African-Americans.
The rising disease toll makes
the use of condoms imperative.
No, condoms aren’t 100 percent
effective. But yes, in the absence
of abstinence, without AIDS
vaccine or cure, condoms are the
best thing around to protect from
infection.
“We promote condom use as
the only highly effective method
in protecting against sexually
transmitted diseases, including
HIV,” says Sharon Broom of the
American Social Health
Association.
“It’s very important to stress
that because a lot of people have
gotten a lot of misinformation
about their effectiveness.”
Teenagers and young adults are
more likely to use other forms of
contraception
unfortunately, those forms do
little or nothing to protect
against sexually transmitted
diseases.
“It may well be because with
condoms, they really have to
discuss and negotiate their use,”
Broom says. “It’s much easier to
be on the pill because when they
enter into the sexual relationship,
they don’t have to talk about it.
There is an embarrassment factor
and an unwillingness to talk
openly about concerns for their
sexual health.”
In fact, latex condoms can be
extremely effective at preventing
the transmission of HIV - if used
consistently and correctly for each
act of sexual intercourse, the
CDC says.
Kelli tells students that there is
no such thing as “safe” sex. But
if they don’t remain abstinent,
she encourages them to be armed
with the information they need to
have “safer” sex.
Meanwhile, she arms herself
with the information she needs to
live with AIDS. She is making
a will and having heart-to-heart
talks with her doctors on how she
wants to die.
“When push comes to shove in
the end, I want to be *no code.’ I
want to be shot up with
morphine and just go.”
Everything has changed.
“Married with HIV”
Kelli remembers the day she
told her future in-laws that she
unknowingly may have infected
their son.
“The hardest part was telling
Jim’s parents that I could have
killed their kid,” Kelli says.
“We didn’t have his test results
back when we told them. We
weren’t engaged at the time. We
were living together in Michigan,
both of us away from home. It
was very difficult to look across
the table at your future mother
and father-in law and say, ‘We
don’t know.’”
It was a tense, several-week
wait before Jim learned his test
was negative - “that she had it
and I didn’t,” he says. “It felt
weird that I couldn’t experience
the same emotions with her.”
Jim and Kelli had talked about
getting married long before HIV
was foisted into their lives. He
gave her an engagement ring
three weeks after her diagnosis, a
move that astounded people who
still ask, “Aren’t you afraid of
ha?”
The couple married June 10.
The wedding vows “in sickness
and health” and “until death do us
part” took on a heart-wrenching
urgency.
“After my diagnosis, I wanted
to break it off,” Kelli says.
“He said, ‘Absolutely not.’
I’m 26; hei's 27. In the next
three years, things should start
happening. I don’t think it’s fair
that Jim put his life on hold for
me.
“But Jim has a totally opposite
feeling. He says he fell in love
with me before we knew all of
this. Why should a disease
change it?”
There are precautions that the
couple must take, such as using
condoms during sex and not
sharing razors or toothbrushes.
She must be careful of mold,
germs and bacteria, so potatoes
are peeled and Jim cleans the
shower and bathrooms. She
doesn’t go water skiing or swim
in the river anymore.
“Other than that, life is the
same,” Kelli says. “Sometimes,
I look in the mirror, and it’s even
hard for me to see that anything
is different”
Jim agrees. “We don’t forget
about it, but we try to put it on
the back burner. A couple of
times a week we talk about if
she’s feeling good, if she’s
coughing, how her blood counts
are.”
The hardest part is planning for
the future.
“I’ve got three job offers, and
what do I do?” she asks. “Do I
really want to go through the
whole spiel again at a new place
of employment and say, ‘This is
what I have’? When I say I have
a doctor’s appointment that will
last two hours, believe me. Do I
want to move 1,800 miles away
from my support group?
“I should be looking at the fun
things, planning children, facing
the challenges and opportunities
that another job could bring. I
have no choices anymore.”
Everything has changed.
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