It’s 11.38 a.m. when a well-spoken woman, who says she’s an attorney, calls from her office, asking for the names of anonymous testing sites. At first very businesslike, she calmly takes down all the information. I ask her why she’s considering a test. Total silence. Then she begins to cry: “I....I can’t talk....I’m sorry...you see, I have swollen lymph glands....[crying]....And my doctor wants to rule out HIV...I feel overwhelmed...” Then, abruptly: “Where can I send a donation?” She thanks me and hurries off the phone after just 3 minutes.

These were one-time callers, but, as in any epidemic, an element of panic prevails, and our hotline also attracts an army of “chronic” or repeat callers who are intensely fearful no matter how benign their risk, many revealing continued misconceptions and paranoia about a disease that can be effectively prevented. We do our best to help them, but often they’re impervious to counseling.

Most poignant are calls we get from AIDS patients, phoning from their hospital beds, attempting to navigate the exhausting labyrinth of insurance and health care matters. One man, in hospice care, said he craved companionship and missed the “good old days” when he was handsome and healthy.

That call was a tough one for me as just the day before a close friend of mine, Joe, who had battled HIV for 16 years, had finally succumbed. Although at the end Joe was a mere skeleton, he was nonetheless at peace. “I’ve done what I wanted to,” he told me on our last visit. An avid gardener, he insisted on a final trip to his country house to see his garden one last time. For a moment the caller’s reality and the memory of my deceased friend blurred in my mind and I was overcome. Time for a break.

Face to Face

One of the most and unique services GMHC offers is called “A-Team Counseling,” a one-time, in-person session that’s free and anonymous.

Recently, I was on an A-Team counselling a 26-year-old HIV-infected mother from the Midwest. She had traveled to Manhattan by bus to find her estranged boyfriend, who, she recounted tearfully, had kidnapped her 7-year- old son. Disheveled, painfully thin, the woman was a disturbing sight. She’s learned that the two had already returned home where the boyfriend was, and the child put in his grandmother’s custory. custody of his grandmother. Meanwhile she’d run out of money for the return trip, been refused a loan by her family, lost her ID, gone hungry and spent two nights on the street.