In July 2011 I got pneumonia. No big deal; I went to the doctor, got treated. The odd thing was, the next month I got it again. My doctor said, "Nobody gets pneumonia twice." But he treated me anyway and sent me home. Later in August I got a cracking headache, worst I've ever had. My brother had to take me to the emergency room, but they sent me back home. By the next day, I was at the doctor again, and an astute nurse spotted the signs of possible meningitis. Back to the hospital. Long story short, by early September I had been diagnosed with fungal meningitis, and had nearly died from two small strokes related to it.

I lay in my hospital bed and one morning a small United Nations of doctors from different nationalities lined up by my bedside and delivered their verdict. "You have AIDS."

"What?"

"You have AIDS."

"Are you saying I have HIV?"

"No, AIDS." (The guy didn't pull any punches.)

My C4 count stood at 49.

My new infectious disease specialist put me on ART immediately. I've been on Atripla, Triumeq, and now Genvoya. I've had shingles, and watched my body shape change as a result of the meds, and have had to change my lifestyle because the meds have given me a case of med-induced diabetes. Many things about all this suck ass, and not in a good way.

I tried to figure out how this could have happened - I had gotten tested regularly. My tests had been negative. There had been no indication at all that I had had HIV in my system that could have turned into AIDS. I had been careful.

But not careful enough. I knew that. I had no idea who had given me this, and would never have any way of knowing. There had been too many men. The most likely time had been the day I took 34 loads in my ass, probably without a single condom; there was no way of knowing. There had been other times, many other times, but every time I had been tested, the tests had resulted in negatives. Not all of these were over-the-counter tests, either. Two years earlier, my doctor had hospitalized me for a mystery illness that he chalked up to some unnamed virus that came and went. At the time he gave me a full-bore HIV test, which came back negative. Yet I'm now certain that that "mystery illness" was my seroconversion.

I quizzed my doctor later: How could this have happened? I had been under his care for years - how could HIV have flown under his radar long enough to have turned into AIDS and nearly kill me without his seeing it? He explained that the problem with modern HIV testing isn't just false positives, but also false negatives. The truth is, the science just isn't good enough yet to give us certainty in diagnosis. I was just unlucky as I could possibly be.

On the other hand, I was as lucky as I could possibly be. I survived. I've now been undetectable for over a year, and have not missed a single dose of medication since I began three years ago. My cell count is now at 300, which is not too bad for someone my age, and it may improve.

I don't hold any bad feeling toward the man who gave me HIV. I hope he discovered his infection soon enough to be treated before it wrecked his immune system. In honesty, I can't say that I regret the behavior that resulted in this, because the day I took 34 loads was a highlight of my sexual life. I would do it again in a moment. What I will never, ever do again is top anyone. I will put no one at risk. I will not be the one who passes this down the line.

This blog is called News From The Front Lines because we are at war with an Enemy, and I am committed to fighting that enemy inside my body, and in the world outside. I will use my words, and I will use my body as the means to fight, and if I can prevent even one person from ending up where I am now, then I will have justified my survival where so many others have died.

More dispatches to follow.