I was supposed to be dead in 1986, but I'm still going strong. The doctor I had told me not to take AZT when they were first prescribing it because the doses were so high. I'm not saying that's a reason I'm still around, but it makes you think. It is quite sobering to think back on the early days of the disease and remember how terrified we were. Every cough, every fever, every strange spot on my skin would send me into a bout of depression. It's still hard for me to come to grips with all the medical advances through the years that have saved us. It makes me remember all my friends who weren't so lucky. I wonder what they would've become; what they would have contributed to the world.