For Now, Being HIV Positive Is the Least of His Worries

We sat there shooting awkward, sheepish looks at each other, me asking dumb questions and him trying to say something that would make sense in a newspaper. Without saying as much, we knew we were both failing miserably.

It was my fault. I thought it would make an interesting column to talk to a homeless person who also had the AIDS virus, then to ask how he had fared during the past week of cold, rainy weather. Had the prospect of catching a cold or getting sick heightened his sense of fear or anxiety?

And the kid named Forest, who said he was 20 but looked 17, sat there in a room at the Lighthouse shelter in Santa Ana and said it didn’t really make all that much difference to him.

As I realized too late, what did I really expect him to say? “Yeah, I was feeling pretty good when I just had HIV and no place to live, but this rain really bums me out”?

Forest said he has been in Southern California since June, riding out on Amtrak from Akron, Ohio. Like many a new Californian, he came out for the weather “and a chance to get away.”

He tested positive for HIV in October of 1990. His current nightly habitat is outside of an office building in Santa Ana, where he enters the grounds about 10 o’clock. Although he sleeps outside in a sleeping bag, he can position himself under a roof so he doesn’t get rained on.

“Every day it’s the same thing,” he said. “Nothing’s changed. The HIV, it doesn’t affect me at all.”

He paused a moment and said: “I know who gave it to me. He has cancer now. He knew he had it when he gave it to me.”

I asked whether he’s worried about catching cold from the chill and rain. “No,” he said. “If I got something I couldn’t shake off, I’d have to deal with the situation. When it comes, I’ll deal with it then.”

There aren’t many rainbows in an HIV-positive world, but a county health official said the rain doesn’t exacerbate the problem. “The medical reality is that living on the street, because of lack of a regular schedule and lack of good eating habits, certainly impacts negatively on the immune system,” said Jody Meador, the county’s HIV medical director. “But . . . infections are caused by viruses and bacteria, not cold weather and rain.”

She said, however, that the stress of coping with harsher weather can adversely affect a person’s immune system.

Others who work with the homeless echoed Meador’s assessment. “A person’s immune system is affected by their attitude toward themselves,” said Peter Bright, who works for the local Red Cross. “When you’re homeless and you’re worrying about basic needs--like food, clothing and shelter--you’re not going to have as strong an immune system as someone living relatively stress-free.”

None of several health or social service people I talked to knew how many HIV-positive people are also homeless in Orange County. There’s a problem with getting an accurate count, they said, although James Boyd, director of rehabilitation at the Salvation Army, said: “I don’t think anyone has been willing to put that information out. I think they can get a handle on it, closer than what they’re saying.”

How do you fill up your day, I asked Forest. He continued to indulge the dumb questions. “In the morning, I read a bit of the Bible,” he said. “I get here (to the daytime shelter), walk around, ask someone for cigarettes, get through the day, watch some TV, play chess, listen to the radio, talk to people.”

He shrugged as if to say that isn’t much of an answer, but I was thinking I was the fool for asking.

His speech was diffident, almost mechanical. I asked why he doesn’t seem that concerned about things. “It doesn’t bother me that much,” he said. “It just doesn’t faze me at all. When something comes, I’ll handle it the best I can. I’d rather live. If I found out tomorrow I had full-blown AIDS, I wouldn’t take a gun and put it to my head.”

I asked whether he’s had any particular problems recently. I was thinking again of the weather. “Yeah, I’d like to have my radio back,” he said. “Somebody took it right off my waist and dared me to take it back. I couldn’t do anything about it, because the dude was pretty big.”

He looked at me as if to say, “This is as good as the answers get, buddy.”

Twenty years old and these are the best stories he has to tell. Ask him about his future plans, and you almost feel cruel.

“Just take it day by day,” he said.

“Not much of an interview, huh?” he asked.

I told him it wasn’t his fault, which was true.

And walking out, I was thinking:

Pretty sad. Pretty sad.