Staying positive while living with H.I.V./AIDS for 15 years

Volume Number 1 Issue Number 11 / December 6 - 12, 2006

By Lawrence Lerner

Chelsea resident Kevin Beauchamp is a glass-half-full kind of guy, the kind of person who can say, “Good things come out of every situation,” matter of factly, with conviction. It doesn’t seem to matter that, for 15 years, Beauchamp has also been living with H.I.V./AIDS.

“I generally look at the positive. That’s just my nature. I’m one of those people who is solution-oriented and not into drama,” he said. “So, when my H.I.V. test came back positive in 1991, I didn’t look at it fatalistically. At that point, it was just like, deal with it. Let’s see how my doctor and I can work with it and see what happens.”

Beauchamp’s outlook serves as an inspiring reminder during the time of year when giving thanks is in order. His resilience, which mirrors that of countless people living with H.I.V./AIDS, also sends a clear message of hope in the wake of last Friday’s World AIDS Day commemorations and activities, which drew thousands of people at sites throughout the city.

That’s not to say Beauchamp’s journey has been easy. The 44-year-old retired flight attendant and education trainer for Continental Airlines has been to places no one should have to go, battling deteriorating health, debilitating side effects from medication and eventual vision loss during the 1990s, only to bounce back with the help of antiretroviral drugs, a healthy diet, regular exercise and a support network provided by friends, loved ones and a host of programs at the Gay Men’s Health Crisis center, on W. 24th St. between Sixth and Seventh Aves.

Beauchamp, a native of Houston who moved to New York in 1987, is one of an estimated 96,829 city residents who are living with H.I.V./AIDS.

His diagnosis hardly took him by surprise.

“I knew so many people who had tested positive, so many people who’d gotten sick and died that it was just a norm in my life at that point,” he said. “I thought, ‘That’s just the way it is. At some point, I will become positive.’ ”

His partner at the time, David, was also H.I.V. positive, and although Beauchamp got on meds while consulting regularly with his doctor, the couple focused more on David’s health, for reasons that are inexplicable to Beauchamp.

“For whatever reason, it dawned on us to get him support at the time. We didn’t really think it was necessary for me,” he said on Tuesday in an interview at G.M.H.C.

But David’s death from an AIDS-related illness in 1993 sent Beauchamp reeling and served as a wake-up call for him.

“I’d known a lot of people who had died, but when David passed, that’s when it became real for me and I had to start dealing with my emotions a bit. I was only 31 at the time, and though I had an amazing support group of friends and family, that was tough,” he said.

Beauchamp’s emotional work, however, met fierce resistance from his solution-oriented side. To cope, he focused on the next doctor’s appointment, the new drug trial he would be part of, his T-cell count. He also worked crazy hours, and while that helped him through the emotional pain, it also pushed him over the edge health-wise. In fact, between the grief and the workload, his health deteriorated significantly for three years after David’s death, culminating in his being diagnosed in 1996 with cytomegalovirus retinitis, or C.M.V. retinitis, the most common severe infection affecting the eyes in patients with AIDS.

At that point, Beauchamp had no choice but to start dealing with his health.

“It was no longer just a matter of being too tired to get up and go to work,” he said. “I started gradually losing my vision, which impacted all facets of my life.”

The medical regimen he underwent was daunting. It included as many as 59 pills a day at the height of the crisis, in 1997, plus I.V. meds for his C.M.V. His doctor visits increased from three times a month to three times a week, consisting of constant checkups, blood work and treatment.

“There was the H.I.V. itself: I had something like only 60 T cells and a very high viral load,” he said. “Then there were the side effects to deal with: Among other things, we feared the meds would blow away my kidneys, which is not uncommon. And finally, there was the C.M.V: The I.V. meds for that were actually a form of chemotherapy. They were harsh on my body, caused plenty of hair loss, and were a full-time job to deal with.”

Other side effects included extreme fatigue chronic nausea, vomiting or diarrhea; stomachaches and cramps; and muscle aches — fortunately not all at the same time.

Beauchamp took another layer of medications to help combat these so that he could leave the house and keep food down.

“At one point, not only couldn’t I keep food down, but the smell or sight of food would make me vomit. I got down to the glorious weight of 126 pounds — not pretty for someone who is 6 foot 1. I’m now at 150.”

Although the protease inhibitors and combination-therapy “cocktail” treatments introduced in 1996 eventually would help turn Beauchamp’s overall condition around, his C.M.V. progressed to where he was designated legally blind in 1998. He uses a blind cane, or sensing stick, to get around, and can no longer drive or read books.

“But at least I’ve retained some of my vision. Most people diagnosed with C.M.V. in 1996 lost all of their vision, and lost it fast,” he said.

Throughout this period, the work that deteriorated his physical health was also a godsend.

“I shouldn’t have gone to work when the worst of it hit, but I did. Sometimes I worked from home,” said Beauchamp. “Either way, I needed to go to work. It kept me alive for a few years. It gave me reason to get up in the morning, gave me someplace to go, and it gave me something to focus on — I had things to do. If I hadn’t had that, I don’t know if I’d be alive now. It’s that simple.”

His co-workers helped out Beauchamp by covering for him on occasion, and when necessary, he took naps in the conference room with the blessings of his colleagues. In addition, the company’s employee assistance department set up Beauchamp with adaptive computer software that made it easier for him to see what was on the screen to help him do his job, and adjusted his work responsibilities accordingly.

Meantime, humor has also helped him get through it all.

“I don’t know how else to deal with it,” said Beauchamp. “From day one, I have laughed with the situation. Humor helps me keep things in perspective, helps me from getting too serious about everything that is going on. Take my I.V. pole. My roommate and I decorate it for the season — Christmas decorations and spring decorations and Gay Pride decorations with beads and things. What else are you going to do?” he said.

Fortunately, in 1999, after a few years of careful attention to his own condition, Beauchamp’s health started to improve. For the last five years, Beauchamp has visited his doctor only once a month, while seeing an opthalmologist every three months.

“My immune system is functioning, and although my kidneys are marginal, primarily because of the toll the meds have taken on them over the years, they function well enough. But we keep a close eye on them,” he said.

And because of advances in medication, the 59-pill days are long gone.

“My regimen right now is the simplest it’s been in 10 years. I take a total of four H.I.V. medications — five, actually, since one of them is a combo pill,” he said. “I take anywhere from one pill every other day to two pills twice a day, plus a couple of other medications for prophylactic purposes and to combat the side effects of the medications.”

In 2001, Beauchamp became a G.M.H.C. client, joining a support group for H.I.V. and vision loss that was initially the only one of its kind in the city, taking lunches and dinners in the organization’s dining room as part of its Meals Program, and volunteering as a crisis counselor for its H.I.V./AIDS Hotline. At the support group, he met his current partner, Howard.

Beauchamp also meets regularly with a G.M.H.C. nutritionist, sticks to a healthy, fresh-food diet, and hits the gym several times a week for cardio workouts.

Fatigue is still a big factor in his life, he says. So, naps are a crucial part of his daily routine, rather than a luxury. He’s been known to abandon errands halfway through to get home and sleep. Likewise, he has to set aside a day of rest after traveling, which he and Howard do frequently.

But ever the optimist, Beauchamp sees the cup as half full.

“Good things come out of every situation,” he said. “If it weren’t for my H.I.V., I wouldn’t be working at G.M.H.C., and I wouldn’t have met Howard. All in all, life is good.”