My Biggest Secret: I Am a Statistic

As I stare at the empty page I question whether my biggest secret is appropriate to talk about. Others sometimes feel uncomfortable and almost threatened by just the words. Over time I have accepted it and gotten over it. I almost enjoy talking about it hoping that someone out there who is in the same situation will feel more comfortable with themselves.

Through the ages 14-16 I had a very troubled life and a broken family. Easily I fell into the wrong crowd and quickly went from smoking pot to shooting heroin. I loved it. It is truly the best way to kill yourself. When I was 16 I was fed up with my life, my sick body, and being thrown in and out of institutions every couple of months. I don't know how I did it, but I stopped. I did not join N/A or follow any particular program I was just ready to stop because I wanted to. I invited a friend who sold pot to sleep on my couch for the next two weeks and dealt with it that way. It worked for me, and I'm glad it did. I never went back to that drug and never will.

When I was 18, I went to the clinic for routine tests. It never hurts to check right? I figured everything would be fine. It always was. Regardless of what I had done when I was younger somehow I had slipped though the loophole and always came out with clean results. This time was different. I had tested positive for Hepatitis C. I was blank. I had no idea what to do. I thought I had finally buried that part of my life. I was doing so well, doing everything I was supposed to, but my consequences still caught up with me. I was devastated. I almost wanted to give up then and there. Just when I had started to truly feel normal, to actually believe that my life had a point, that there was a reason to try, to work, to deal with the pain and frustration of being a part of society, I had been stabbed in the back. The rug had been pulled out from underneath my feet and again I was a little, lonely girl sitting on the floor crying with no one to blame but myself. I hated myself. Now that ugly part of my life would always hang over my head, waiting for me to die.

The fact that I have no medical insurance didn't help either. At first I believed them, I figured they knew how to help me at the clinic. They are doctors too right? Wrong. They are students, students who don't speak English, mostly from Russia and India. About 30 people sit in the waiting room, all biding their time for hours on end to get the same minimum treatment that we poor, sick people so pathetically look forward to. Its really a joke going there, and it gets me down every time.

I did a little research myself, trying to figure out if I could do anything to make a dent in this black cloud. Hepatitis C is only transferable thought blood. That loosened me up a little bit, its not like I was going to infect everyone, unless of course they used my toothbrush or something. Hepatitis C slowly destroys your liver, so obviously I had to make extreme cutbacks on the alcohol. This was working until I turned 21 this year. I had a bunch of binge moments. I try not to act like a sick person though, because I'm not. I have no symptoms whatsoever, and I really won't have any problems for about 20 more years, at least that's what the 'students' tell me. That 20 year time limit is extremely depressing but what am I supposed to do, lie in bed until it happens? I wish I could. I also started taking vitamins specifically focusing on the liver and antioxidants, to boost my immune system. I do not take them everyday, sometimes I will remember every day for a couple weeks and then I will forget for a couple weeks, I try not to become obsessed.
The Internet has been my best source of information. So much for health care.

I am not a poster child for overcoming drugs or dealing with and treating Hepatitis C. I am just a normal person, trying to live a normal life and not get too depressed about the facts. I am sure there are others out there just like me who are confused. Its just nice to hear a similar story to your own. It simplifies your worries when deep down you feel like an outcast.