This book is actually something I never intended to write about a subject that I never imagined would touch my life. I hope you will read it with an open mind. It is a report in progress from a journey that began in 1992, when I took what is commonly referred to as an AIDS test. I had no symptoms of illness, no particular risks or fears, just a new doctor who insisted that the test should be part of a routine medical exam. My visit turned from routine to life-altering when the test came back positive.

p I was referred to an AIDS specialist who declared that my test was not positive— not enough to be considered conclusive, anyway. He had me take it over again and, at the same time, ordered lab work on everything from my cholesterol level to my T cell count. I left his office frightened and confused but hopeful, and spent the days before my next appointment alternating between frantic affirmations of wellness and bottomless despair.

p The result of the second test was indisputably positive. According to the specialist, my progression from somewhat positive to really positive indicated a recent infection, even though the concept of a new infection conflicted with the circumstances of my life.

p He told me that I was exceptionally healthy, that I was fortunate to have detected the condition early, but that there was nothing 1 could do to prevent devastating disease and an eventual death from AIDS. He warned me against wasting money on vitamins and other foolish attempts to save my immune system, advising that I simply wait to become sick and then take AZT, a drug with severe side effects that would make me sicker. I was given five to seven years to live. I went directly from his office to a health food store. The following day, I began a search for a new AIDS specialist.

p Life as I had lived, planned and hoped came to a grinding halt. I lost interest in my business, I dropped out of the university program I had been attending, and I bought myself a wedding ring to ward off potential suitors. Wanting to keep my tragedy a secret, I stopped spending time with my family and all but a few close friends. Instead, I attended AIDS seminars and joined a support group for HIV positive women where once a week, we were encouraged to compare notes on our fears and frustrations, mention any potential symptoms, and cry about the lousy deal we’d all been handed.

p I was drafted into AIDS activism when a friend tried, in my honor, to volunteer her time at AIDS Project Los Angeles (APLA) and was turned away. Incensed that a warm, intelligent person with the sincerest of motivations would be rejected, I made my thoughts known to the men in charge. In the middle of my tirade, I was asked to join their public speakers bureau. Almost immediately, -8 I was touring local high schools and colleges as the person that HIV should have never happened to. APLA booked me for a year’s worth of engagements before I’d even finished their training course. I made the audiences laugh, cry, and scared—I appeared as the embodiment of the slogan that everyone is at risk for AIDS. My suggestions to brighten up the women’s HIV support group at LA Shanti turned into an invitation to speak for that organization, which led to a position on the board of yet another AIDS group, Women At Risk.

p A year or so into my diagnosis and public service, and after interviewing half a dozen AIDS doctors whose recommendations ranged from immediate drug therapy to world travel, 1 found an anomaly among AIDS specialists—a doctor who didn’t routinely fill people with toxic pharmaceuticals and lethal predictions. She treated me as an individual rather than an impending statistic, and in doing so noticed my good health. She told me that I didn’t fit the profile of an AIDS patient, and urged me to take another test. Afraid to raise my hopes, at first I refused. When I finally found the courage to retest, the result was inconclusive. Further testing produced a series of unsettling, contradictory diagnoses: a positive followed by a negative and another positive.

p Confused by a personal situation that defied all the rules I’d been so passionately preaching as a public speaker, I turned to the AIDS groups where I worked for help. Instead of finding answers, I found my questions were dismissed, and that persisting with my line of inquiry resulted only in meaningless explanations and the distinct impression that I was ruining morale.

p My search for information led me outside the confines of the AIDS establishment and into a body of scientific, medical and epidemiological data that defied everything I had been taught about AIDS, and everything that I had been teaching others. The more I read, the more I became convinced that AIDS research had jumped on a bandwagon that was headed in the wrong direction.

p Since it was clear that the information I had found, however life-affirming, was not welcome among the AIDS organizations I belonged to, I decided to start my own. In 1995, together with a few friends gathered from various support groups and other places along the way, I started an organization that shares vital facts about HIV and AIDS that are unavailable from mainstream venues. A year later, while trying to write a simple threefold brochure, the first version of this book emerged. Now in its fourth printing, there are editions in Spanish, Portuguese, and Italian—and even a bootleg version in French.

p In the seven years since receiving my death sentence, I have gone from frightened victim to AIDS activist to HIV dissident to spokesperson for new views about HIV and AIDS. Although my HIV status has been decidedly positive for the past five years, I enjoy abundant good health and live without pharmaceutical treatments or fear of AIDS.

p In 1996, I met a wonderful man I plan to marry as soon as I take a day off. We have a beautiful, healthy little boy who at age two, has never had so much as an ear infection and is so bright that he already speaks in complete sentences.

p For most people, the surprising thing about my story is the fact that it is not unusual—I know hundreds of HIV positives who are alive and naturally well years after receiving their own dire prognoses. Contrary to popular claims, what we all have in common is not some unique genetic quality, but information that liberates us from unfounded fear and allows us to embrace our natural ability to be well. A few of their stories—just the tip of an enormous and widely ignored iceberg—are included as an appendix to this book. 1 believe these personal accounts supplement the referenced data, and for some readers may be more meaningful than all the biomedical and epidemiological facts.

p Rather than being discouraged by my experiences with a closed-minded AIDS establishment, I am encouraged by the letters and emails that arrive daily from people whose lives have been touched by this information. I receive pictures of babies that otherwise might not have been bom, thanks from grateful parents who no longer worry for their grown children, messages from once-ill and hopeless AIDS patients who have restored their health and their faith in the future, accounts from people diagnosed HIV positive who go from constant terror and feelings of tragedy to calmly making the decision that HIV won’t define or limit their lives, notes from teachers grateful to learn of critical thinkers, and letters from students who feel betrayed by the AIDS campaigns that have shaped their world view. I am moved by those whose messages I can’t return because they’re hiding their HIV status, by urgent requests for help from expectant mothers who want to protect their babies from experimental drugs, by letters from partners who tell me that the information arrived too late for someone they loved, and by the courage people find to stand up, often alone, in their conviction to lead a long and healthy life despite what the whole world believes about HIV These notes remind me of how grateful I am to the doctors, scientists, researchers and activists who gave me the information that turned my own positive test into a way to help others, and who continue to support my efforts today.

p This book is a work in progress. I value your input and comments, and make every effort to improve each edition. Please feel free to contact me with your thoughts or suggestions.

I thank you for your willingness to consider another view of AIDS.