Reflections on Day Five (Friday, June 22)

I’m writing to tell you a story from Day Five, when the team rode from Carson City, Nevada to Fallon, Nevada.

After pulling into the parking lot of a Sonic restaurant on the main street of Fallon and grabbing a quick sandwich-and-apple lunch out of the van, I decided I wanted to explore Fallon and its community. I walked a block down the road to Walgreens, and after picking up some groceries, talked to three store employees about HIV/AIDS. I hadn’t planned on doing so when I walked into the store, but after buying snacks I asked them about their perception of the culture surrounding HIV/AIDS in their community. I spoke with a pharmacist and a pharmaceutical technician, both of which had different things to say about HIV/AIDS than one of the other store employees. After leaving Walgreens, I stopped by a coffee shop called The Daily Grind because I saw a sign advertising a live band performance for Friday night. As I was heading into the shop, a woman asked me how long I had been riding for—the perfect opportunity to strike up a conversation about the Ride Against AIDS and the team’s mission. The most powerful conversation I had Friday, though, was with a woman (I’ll call her Mary) I met in an antique shop. After hopping off my bike and leaning it against the side of her shop’s building, I introduced myself and asked her how she was. The next thing I knew, we were inside the store exchanging information about our perspectives of how stigma surrounding HIV-positive individuals has evolved since the 80’s. I was privileged as well to hear her personal story. Mary gave birth in the early 80’s in a hospital in Reno and had to have several transfusions. During that same year, her friend (I’ll call her Rebecca) also gave birth and had to have many blood transfusions. There weren’t the same kind of regulations about screening donated blood for diseases back then as there are now. While Mary did not get sick from her transfusions, Rebecca learned soon after her stay in the hospital that she was HIV-positive. Rebecca’s husband filed for divorce, and Rebecca and her son moved in with her parents. Her parents were afraid to tell anyone that she was sick with AIDS as she grew sick over time, and lied to those they knew. Rebecca eventually died, with her illness kept secret.

            It was an honor, and a humbling experience, to be privilege to such a personal story of Mary’s. I left the antique shop mid-afternoon filled with a renewed sense of purposefulness. I felt invigorated by a motivation to to reach out to people in the communities we are visiting, even after long days of biking, because there are opportunities in every place we pedal through to learn about the culture of HIV/AIDS in America and to raise awareness. I can give dignity to those who did not have a voice in society during their fight to survive HIV/AIDS simply by listening to the stories their friends and family choose to share.