'DARLING, I'M SO SORRY TO TELL YOU THAT I HAVE AIDS,' HE SAID.

By a Woman Looking Back

Editor's Note: Due to the sensitive nature of this story, we've decided not to reveal the author's name.

NEAR CENTRAL DISTRICT, Hong Kong -- For me, the most special gift is my friends, old and new. From my modest home now, a small space at a seniors-care centre on Hong Kong Island, I'll explain why.

Born in Europe in 1934, I was educated there, becoming a kindergarten teacher and then a passenger-ship stewardess. My late husband, an Austrian, was a passenger when we met. In 1960, we married in Australia, which turned out to be the worst move I ever made.

True, we had some nice times. Nine months after the wedding, a son was born. More children followed.

By 1974 when our family moved to Asia, we had four youngsters. For a time, we lived in South Korea, where then the department-store shelves stood empty and the authorities enforced a curfew. Life with four children there wasn't easy.

Later we moved to Taiwan, Hong Kong and Indonesia. In 1984, we returned to Hong Kong and lived on the south side of Hong Kong Island in a beautiful, 2,800-square-foot apartment with a big ocean-view balcony.

A businessman who frequently traveled, my husband was tall, good-looking and athletic. He rarely fell sick.

Often alone with the children, I worked hard to raise them. Sometimes it felt like I lived in our car as I drove them from school to parties or other activities. Once home, I'd cook dinner. I love to cook. Looking back, that was a great time.

Then one day, wham! A disaster hit.

Suddenly, my husband became very sick. Was it the flu? I wondered.

After spending a few days in the Adventist Hospital, he came home still sick. That was in September 1989. My birthday was in the same month. What a surprise gift I received!

The hospital telephoned us, and we returned there. My husband entered a doctor's office while I waited outside on a bench. When my husband reappeared, he asked me to go into the doctor's room. There, in front of the doctor and nurses, he told me a terrible thing.

“Darling, I'm so sorry to tell you that I have AIDS,” he said.

Sorry to tell me? What a disaster after 30 years of marriage! I thought the world had shattered, like a piece of crystal hitting the floor, smashing into tiny pieces.

No, I didn't want to hit him. Why should I have dirtied my hands on him?

“Oh, my God!” I said. “Our children.”

People at the hospital told me to have a blood test. Why me? I'd done nothing wrong.

“No,” they said, “but you slept with your husband.”

Then yes, I nodded, crying.

For the long term, I had three options.

-- Suicide, but how could I do that? I didn't respect people who committed suicide, believing they should face their problems and try to solve them. Notions of such a thing scared me, and I wasn't sure how to go about it. Plus why should I suffer so sternly for my husband's misdeeds? So I ruled that out.

-- Divorce, but no, I wanted our family to stay together. We sometimes did special things together, like weekend visits to the New Territories or outlying islands. So option two didn't look promising.

-- Just continue with life, almost like before, but with a big change. My love-life had ended. Instead of loving my husband, I felt emptiness. I no longer even believed in love. The only love I had left in the years that followed went to my pet cats.

Driving home from the hospital that day, I stopped at the Mary of Lourdes Church. Going to the priest's office, I ordered my husband, “Tell him, and confess.” It was a big drama, but I stayed strong.

When home, I went straight to the refrigerator, taking out a bottle of vodka and an ice-covered glass. After pouring a drink, I spent a long time staring at it. Then thinking, “You can't avoid problems with alcohol,” I threw it away, including the bottle.

Next I called my friends. True friends are people who know all about you and love you anyway. Immediately my friends came, helping me to cope with the difficult situation. Friends are such a special gift.

I didn't cry again because that would weaken me, exhausting my energy. Being a positive thinker, I refused to collapse and soon felt stronger.

Of course, I had the HIV virus too. Wonderful! I could suffer for my husband's illicit pleasures. But such thoughts didn't help me.

Luckily, I went to a life-saver, a doctor in Causeway Bay who prescribed a special medicine from Beijing that I needed to pick up at Chinese Products. “I'll fix you up,” he promised.

For nearly a year, I took the medicine. Then the doctor told me to stop. He's a friend too, another special gift.

Physically, I'm still okay, even now. But my husband died a year later.

“No,” I thought. “It won't happen to me – not that way.”

My husband expired at the Queen Elizabeth Hospital under the care of medical staff who did everything to help him. Sometimes I think they let him try all the new medicines, like a guinea pig.

My children took him our big TV and VCR. My daughter often used special connections at the Holiday Inn Golden Mile to get his special menu there.

Near the end, I didn't want to see my husband anymore. One day on the way to the hospital, we picked up the priest who did the final prayers. He said to me, “Did you forgive your husband?”

When I replied with an emphatic “no", he said, “Please do it." Later when I said that I had, he called me a liar.

After my husband died, my friends came and helped me again. Friends – such a special gift!

Then I received another big jolt. Guess what! My husband had no life insurance. He'd been too busy with other things.

So what should I do? As a positive thinker, I knew that sitting, feeling sorry for myself and crying wouldn't help. Looking ahead, I decided to find a job, which I did, but only after going for interviews for days until I had blistered feet.

Soon another problem loomed. My youngest son became addicted to drugs.

Typically, a drug addict ruins not only his own life, but also those of his family and others who love him. My youngest son started with drugs in about 1985 when still at school.

At one point, I took him on a European trip, thinking the positive experiences would change his mind. Wrong!

After we returned to Hong Kong, I took him to the Adventist Hospital for detoxification, a process that cost HK$25,000. Once when I visited him, he handed me a note, saying a lady from Alcoholics Anonymous had asked him to give it to me. So I took the note. “Please call me,” it said, giving a phone number.

I placed the call almost immediately. The next day, the lady came to me, and we had a brilliant talk. She became a precious friend, someone always there for me. Definitely, her friendship qualified as a special gift.

But my son's drug addiction went on and on. He turned into a big liar, his lies growing like a snowball rolling downhill. In time, I took him to one rehab program after another, even in Thailand, Vietnam and the Philippines.

It all cost lots of money. My financial resources dwindled, and I even sold my jewelry. My son didn't worry about the impact of his behavior. Drug addicts focus only on getting the next fix.

In the apartment block where I lived, another family had four children, two of them (boys) on drugs. Sharing the same problems, those parents and I became very close friends. Many times, we helped and supported each other.

The father told me, “You have no idea how many times I've taken my Rolex to pawn shops and then brought it back again.”

Yes, I had a similar situation, but couldn't buy back my jewelry because my money had run out. Never mind! I didn't care. My son's life counted for much more.

Continued problems and my worsening dilemma brought me more friends. Eventually, I heard about the St. Stephens Society (soon my son went there). Its founder is a wonderful person who became a great friend to me. I still hear from her. Recently, two of her staff members visited me, bringing food and drinks. They, too, became new friends.

My son left St. Stephens, saying he knew what to do and could solve his problems alone. Later, he died, killed by his addiction. I struggled to cope with the heartbreak, but maybe he's better off without pain or stress.

Often I prayed: “God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.” When I needed it most, that prayer helped me a lot.

At times lately, when I've been in a hospital myself, some of my best friends came to visit. They asked the nurses if they could take me outside in a wheelchair to inhale fresh air. How wonderful for friends to do that!

Two months ago, I entered a home for the elderly where I live in a tiny room with space for just a small bed. But it's clean, and the excellent staff members help me to regain my strength. When anyone new comes to visit me, I make another friend.

Except for my friends, I don't have much anymore. Ideally, I'd like to build a new life. With positive thinking and help from my friends, maybe I can.

Although the world may be full of problems, it also has great people. My life wasn't boring, but at least I never felt alone. I always had that special gift, my friends. Even from some of my worst experiences, I found new people who became friends. A person never has too many friends, and each one is a special gift.

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