My first buddy, Vernice

So many of my friends were dealing with AIDS. One of my friends was an AIDS buddy -- a program which connected folks with AIDS with long-term relationships with buddies. This sounded right to me, so I signed up for the training. I had been involved with AIDS work and AIDs education for years, so was pretty familiar with the basic information. The training consisted of two intense weekends of sessions - everything from AIDS 101 stuff to how to deal with variety of situations which might arise. The role plays and etc were very interesting, but I almost fell asleep during some of the lectures recapping very familiar material. My friend had a meeting with the course folks... and they talked a little about the weekend, and the buddy candidates. Turns out that my occasionally drooping eyes were being interpreted as "not really all that interested in this work." I did make it through the training... but instead of being assigned to a buddy, was asked to come in to AIDS Action for another interview, sort of a pass-fail situation. I passed.

My first buddy was a Cape Verdean woman. She was NOT out to anyone about her diagnosis of AIDS, and really kept me at arm's length. I did what I could... saw her every other week or so, got to know her sister and her nephew. One of the real high points of that relationship ... I mentioned Vernice's passion for the Boston Celtics to the AIDS Action Buddy Coordinator. It turned out that Nancy had seasons' tickets, or had a good friend with seasons' tickets... and a few weeks later, Vernice and I went to a Celtics game. I hate to sound like a Mastercard commercial... but the expression on her face was just priceless. We had a great time.

About a year after we connected, Vernice became seriously ill and was hospitalized in a coma. I visited her daily - made sure that the nurses always turned on her TV for the Celtics games, read to her, etc. She did finally emerge from the coma... but I was still very aware of being held at a distance from her. During that hospitalization I learned that most of her family and friends called her Ola rather than Vernice, something she had never offered to me.

About a week after she woke from the coma, I got a call to come to the hospital. She had lapsed back into unconsciousness, and this time she did not wake up. I sat with her all afternoon... read to her from the Book of Common Prayer, just sat, read some more, sat some more. At one point I tried to do some of that New Age giving people permission to die stuff... and she reacted by waving her arm angrily at me, basically telling me to shut up. I felt badly... but at least I knew that she was hearing me as I went back to more neutral readings!

Late in the afternoon her sister arrived and went to her side and said "Ola, I'm here." Within five minutes, the monitors started to go wild (we were in an ICU, and she was still hooked up). Her sister looked at me with big eyes and a bit of panic and said "What should we do?!?!?!?" I said "Nothing. We don't do anything. Hold her hand." A nurse arrived a minute later, and the three of us stayed with her during those last few minutes. As she died, I read the Commendation at the Time of Death. She was a staunch Episcopalian, and that was the right thing to do.

I don't remember what her cover story was -- kidney problem? Liver problem? But she died with only a very few people knowing about her HIV+ status.

When I got home early that evening, I was very shaken - - surprisingly so, I thought, given that we were never very close. But my friend (who by then was my partner) said "Of COURSE you're upset" and brought me tea and some comfort.

Vernice's funeral was wonderful -- Episcopalian, but a predominantly black congregation, and the music was not Anglo-Catholic and stuffy. The music was more like I've heard in Baptist services - those lovely old hymns. One has stayed with me for years... "Softly and Tenderly Jesus is calling... calling oh sinner, come home."