Finding Grace
New Here
I have been married to my husband for almost 23 years. We have 3 children. I have been unable to talk to anyone about my trauma for fear of the effect on my children. If I talk to close friends or family, they will never treat the father of my children with any measure of dignity. Not that he deserves it, but our children do! It has been over 7 years since the day that forever changed me and it still hurts like yesterday. What follows is my story that I wrote a while back, hoping to feel better by writing it down. It did help, but not nearly as much as I had hoped.
It was a rainy day in the middle of November 2006. I don’t remember much about that day up to sitting in the waiting room of the local free STD screening clinic. My husband had been admitted to the hospital not quite 2 days ago. I was sitting in the waiting room to get the results of my husband’s testing he had done about 10 days prior, without my knowledge. Since he was in the hospital, with a nebulous condition of pneumonia, liver failure, extremely low red blood cells because his bone marrow was dying, esophageal thrush and Cytomegalovirus, he had given me his paperwork to get his results for him. Three weeks prior to his hospitalization, the doctor told him he should be tested for HIV. He told me that he wouldn’t have it done at our doctor’s office because he didn’t want the testing in his medical records and he was sure it would all turn out negative anyway. The only way he could have been more wrong would be if he also had Hepatitis!
The receptionist at the clinic called the number on my husband’s paperwork and I went into a small room with a male counselor. We each sat down and he proceeded to list the several positive results that had come back. He said he couldn’t give me the detailed lab report unless I gave him my name. He thought it was my testing. I told him that it was my husband’s testing and that he was in the hospital dying. I told him I would call the doctor as soon as I left the clinic to let them know what I had learned. I walked out, as the counselor was still trying to convince me to give him a name. I couldn’t stay one second longer. I might fall into an emotional heap and die at any moment.
I made it to my van in the parking lot. It was pouring down rain so hard that I thought no one would be able to see or hear my emotional breakdown. I was wrong. Two people tapped on my window asking if I was alright. I wanted to ignore them and crawl into a hole, but they were only trying to be nice. I told them that I had just gotten bad news and I would be fine. I lied! I started the van and drove to the closest secluded spot and continued letting the emotion flow. I don’t know how long I sat there, but eventually I composed myself enough to call the doctor to inform him that my husband had tested positive for HIV, Syphilis, Herpes and HPV. They asked if I knew how he had so many STDs. All I could say was that they needed to talk to him. I also asked if there was a way I could come in and have an STD panel done that day. One of the nurses stayed late so that I could get it over and not have to wait over the weekend to start the test. Her name was Faith. I took it as a sign and calmed down a little. At least the imaginary straps around my chest let up a bit and I could breathe without as much pain.
After my blood test, Faith gave me a hug and said she would pray for me. I then went to the hospital to talk with my husband. When I walked into the room, the infectious diseases doctor was already there talking to him about the results she got faxed over from the clinic. She paused as I entered, but my husband told her it was ok to continue. She told him that his CD4 cell count was 21 and normal was 800-1000, and with any one of the other conditions he now had present, that his diagnosis was End Stage AIDS. She said she will be blunt and to the point. If he didn’t die in the next few days, he might recover. She also mentioned how she planned to proceed with the other STD’s he had. The next most pressing issue was to get a spinal tap to make sure that the Syphilis or CMV hadn’t made it to the brain (neurological stage). He also had to have several blood transfusions over the next few days because his bone marrow was no longer making red blood cells. She said that he would have to have had untreated HIV for at least a decade for the immune system to be degraded this far. She asked if I had been tested yet and perhaps the kids should be too, since all were 11 or younger. When she stood to leave the room I made an excuse to leave too. I had to think. I went into a family bathroom that had a lock on the door and only one stall. Again, I lost track of time. Thoughts raced through my head and heart. What I decided was that I couldn’t make any decisions until the dust settled. My husband was a good father and it wouldn’t be fair to the kids or do any good for me to take away their father, especially when he might not live to the end of the next week. I decided to try to get him to try to give me a “big picture” of what had happened for the last decade and then focus on his recovery. Hopefully there would be time to sort it out later. What ever that meant. The only thing I was sure of was that I couldn't ever imagine letting him touch me again as a husband.
I confronted him when I came back to the room. Long story short, he had had so many sexual encounters with women, men and a couple prostitutes that he doesn’t know names or even how many there were. In fact most of them were anonymous. When I asked why, he said he didn’t know, but that he had had these impulses as long as he could remember. Later, in one of only 5 therapy sessions, I would learn that he had been molested as a child by his dad’s sister and later by his brother and a half-brother. He also shared that he also felt bad about having sex with me while I was asleep and on medication. I was given sleeping medication after the birth of my son and it completely knocked me out. When I heard this I was hurt again. I felt used and disrespected. When you can’t give consent that is rape. What hurt the most was that he knew I had been sexually assaulted in college and that it had a tremendous impact on me. He couldn’t even see the connection between then and the betrayal now!
During the nearly 2 week hospital stay, I was there day and night. Even though he had hurt me, I still didn’t want his care to suffer. I held him during the blood transfusions because he said he was scared. I showered him, because he was too weak even to stand in the shower. During the hospital stay I received the results from all of my and the kids testing. We were all negative for HIV. The kids were negative for everything else and I tested positive for Herpes. My Syphilis came back negative too, but they treated me anyway. The doctor said that since we had sex the night before he was admitted that it would be virtually impossible for me not to have it because his counts were so high. When he finally came home, he was still extremely weak and very sick from the daily Chemotherapy he would be on for the rest of his life.
Over the next few years I tried to get him to start from square one with the relationship. I needed him to treat me as if we had just met and he had to earn my trust again. This never worked. He wouldn’t respect the boundary of my physical space. He would constantly grope and use sexually explicit language like it was what I was wanting. I think we both tried very hard, but his refusal to seek professional help didn’t leave him with many tools in his tool box and he has reverted back to the old ways on more occasions than I know or care to count.
It has now been 7 years and a month since I found out and I have asked him to move out. In the past month or so, we have divided financial assets and separated bank accounts. I try not to have animosity towards him for the kids’ sake. I never want them to feel as if they have to choose. We plan to file for legal separation in early 2014, but he needs my health insurance right now.
By joining this group, I hope to be able to express myself freely with no ramifications to my children.
It was a rainy day in the middle of November 2006. I don’t remember much about that day up to sitting in the waiting room of the local free STD screening clinic. My husband had been admitted to the hospital not quite 2 days ago. I was sitting in the waiting room to get the results of my husband’s testing he had done about 10 days prior, without my knowledge. Since he was in the hospital, with a nebulous condition of pneumonia, liver failure, extremely low red blood cells because his bone marrow was dying, esophageal thrush and Cytomegalovirus, he had given me his paperwork to get his results for him. Three weeks prior to his hospitalization, the doctor told him he should be tested for HIV. He told me that he wouldn’t have it done at our doctor’s office because he didn’t want the testing in his medical records and he was sure it would all turn out negative anyway. The only way he could have been more wrong would be if he also had Hepatitis!
The receptionist at the clinic called the number on my husband’s paperwork and I went into a small room with a male counselor. We each sat down and he proceeded to list the several positive results that had come back. He said he couldn’t give me the detailed lab report unless I gave him my name. He thought it was my testing. I told him that it was my husband’s testing and that he was in the hospital dying. I told him I would call the doctor as soon as I left the clinic to let them know what I had learned. I walked out, as the counselor was still trying to convince me to give him a name. I couldn’t stay one second longer. I might fall into an emotional heap and die at any moment.
I made it to my van in the parking lot. It was pouring down rain so hard that I thought no one would be able to see or hear my emotional breakdown. I was wrong. Two people tapped on my window asking if I was alright. I wanted to ignore them and crawl into a hole, but they were only trying to be nice. I told them that I had just gotten bad news and I would be fine. I lied! I started the van and drove to the closest secluded spot and continued letting the emotion flow. I don’t know how long I sat there, but eventually I composed myself enough to call the doctor to inform him that my husband had tested positive for HIV, Syphilis, Herpes and HPV. They asked if I knew how he had so many STDs. All I could say was that they needed to talk to him. I also asked if there was a way I could come in and have an STD panel done that day. One of the nurses stayed late so that I could get it over and not have to wait over the weekend to start the test. Her name was Faith. I took it as a sign and calmed down a little. At least the imaginary straps around my chest let up a bit and I could breathe without as much pain.
After my blood test, Faith gave me a hug and said she would pray for me. I then went to the hospital to talk with my husband. When I walked into the room, the infectious diseases doctor was already there talking to him about the results she got faxed over from the clinic. She paused as I entered, but my husband told her it was ok to continue. She told him that his CD4 cell count was 21 and normal was 800-1000, and with any one of the other conditions he now had present, that his diagnosis was End Stage AIDS. She said she will be blunt and to the point. If he didn’t die in the next few days, he might recover. She also mentioned how she planned to proceed with the other STD’s he had. The next most pressing issue was to get a spinal tap to make sure that the Syphilis or CMV hadn’t made it to the brain (neurological stage). He also had to have several blood transfusions over the next few days because his bone marrow was no longer making red blood cells. She said that he would have to have had untreated HIV for at least a decade for the immune system to be degraded this far. She asked if I had been tested yet and perhaps the kids should be too, since all were 11 or younger. When she stood to leave the room I made an excuse to leave too. I had to think. I went into a family bathroom that had a lock on the door and only one stall. Again, I lost track of time. Thoughts raced through my head and heart. What I decided was that I couldn’t make any decisions until the dust settled. My husband was a good father and it wouldn’t be fair to the kids or do any good for me to take away their father, especially when he might not live to the end of the next week. I decided to try to get him to try to give me a “big picture” of what had happened for the last decade and then focus on his recovery. Hopefully there would be time to sort it out later. What ever that meant. The only thing I was sure of was that I couldn't ever imagine letting him touch me again as a husband.
I confronted him when I came back to the room. Long story short, he had had so many sexual encounters with women, men and a couple prostitutes that he doesn’t know names or even how many there were. In fact most of them were anonymous. When I asked why, he said he didn’t know, but that he had had these impulses as long as he could remember. Later, in one of only 5 therapy sessions, I would learn that he had been molested as a child by his dad’s sister and later by his brother and a half-brother. He also shared that he also felt bad about having sex with me while I was asleep and on medication. I was given sleeping medication after the birth of my son and it completely knocked me out. When I heard this I was hurt again. I felt used and disrespected. When you can’t give consent that is rape. What hurt the most was that he knew I had been sexually assaulted in college and that it had a tremendous impact on me. He couldn’t even see the connection between then and the betrayal now!
During the nearly 2 week hospital stay, I was there day and night. Even though he had hurt me, I still didn’t want his care to suffer. I held him during the blood transfusions because he said he was scared. I showered him, because he was too weak even to stand in the shower. During the hospital stay I received the results from all of my and the kids testing. We were all negative for HIV. The kids were negative for everything else and I tested positive for Herpes. My Syphilis came back negative too, but they treated me anyway. The doctor said that since we had sex the night before he was admitted that it would be virtually impossible for me not to have it because his counts were so high. When he finally came home, he was still extremely weak and very sick from the daily Chemotherapy he would be on for the rest of his life.
Over the next few years I tried to get him to start from square one with the relationship. I needed him to treat me as if we had just met and he had to earn my trust again. This never worked. He wouldn’t respect the boundary of my physical space. He would constantly grope and use sexually explicit language like it was what I was wanting. I think we both tried very hard, but his refusal to seek professional help didn’t leave him with many tools in his tool box and he has reverted back to the old ways on more occasions than I know or care to count.
It has now been 7 years and a month since I found out and I have asked him to move out. In the past month or so, we have divided financial assets and separated bank accounts. I try not to have animosity towards him for the kids’ sake. I never want them to feel as if they have to choose. We plan to file for legal separation in early 2014, but he needs my health insurance right now.
By joining this group, I hope to be able to express myself freely with no ramifications to my children.
