Chapter 108

To find the faith that's been lost within

With her fingers curled around the door handle, Robin stood still and took a deep breath before pulling it open and stepping inside.

The side effects from the change in dosage were wearing on her. Her fatigue was all encompassing; she wanted to sleep for hours but forced herself from bed so as not to alert Patrick or Noah that anything was off. Her muscles ached and her stomach seemed permanently clenched as she tried to ride out the unending waves of nausea. She scoffed as she thought of all the times people so glibly referred to HIV as a manageable disease; as though all she had to do was pop a couple of tic tacs and be on her merry little way. Every increase or change to her meds put her on a treadmill that threatened to run her into the ground. The room would spin when she got out of bed; she was reduced to sipping chicken soup and Gatorade to keep her strength up because the mere thought of most food sent her sprinting for the bathroom; and on bad days the simple act of brushing her teeth could sap her of all her strength. Oh the disease was manageable alright, it's just that no one ever talked about the cost of managing it.

Alexis had called her a few times to check in and to encourage her. Yesterday she had caught her at a particularly weak moment. She had returned to the art studio and curled up in the rocking chair, staring out at water. Alone, with little fear of being caught, she had finally given into the stress and wept. And as though Alexis knew she needed her, she called. Robin had tried to cover, had tried to pretend that everything was just fine but her friend would have none of it. Using all of the tactics and training her legal career afforded her, Alexis convinced her that she needed to go to her support group and furthermore that she needed to tell Patrick where she was going, even if she was not ready to tell him why.

Robin had demurred and resisted but in the end was no match for Alexis and agreed to take her advice. The truth was she knew she needed to go back to the group. She was feeling decidedly overwhelmed by it all and needed to talk to some people who just got it.

Patrick had given her many gifts in their time together but perhaps the greatest one was the push he gave her to find a community who shared her experience.

Their conversation last night had gone better than she expected. They had been curled up on the couch watching a movie when she gently broached the subject.

"Do you remember helping me find a support group last summer?"

Cocking his head to the side, Patrick gave her a curious look. His brow knit together in concentration as he mined his memory for the information. Relief crossed his face as he found it. "Y-yes" he told her

She swallowed thickly and pushed herself to go forward. "I…I…I'm going to go back to Port Charles for a meeting tomorrow."

His brown eyes had widened with worry and he had groped for the remote control to turn the movie off. He had suspicions that she was not feeling well but getting a straight answer from her on the subject was next to impossible.

"You s-s-s-sick?" he stammered as his heart beat wildly in his chest.

"No" she emphatically told him. She had convinced herself that it was not entirely a lie. She was not sick per se, just unwell. It was certainly not something she wanted him to worry about. "I'm just…I'm feeling a little disconnected and think it would be a good thing to go back for a meeting."

He had searched her eyes looking for some kind of hint of what was going on with her but could find none. He knew from his own experience that sometimes it didn't take an event or crisis to need to a visit to a support group. In truth, some of the most intense moments he had experienced at Al-Anon had been when he thought everything was fine.

He had picked up the board and wrote: Then you should go. I'm proud of you for going.

Her eyes had pricked with tears as she read his words. She hadn't felt that it was anything to be proud of. She was solely responsible for the changes to her health and was bearing the consequences of them.

"I'll drive back tomorrow night. Is there…is there anything you want from the apartment?" Eric had dropped off his two suitcases of clothes he had taken with him when he left Port Charles but no one had told him why Eric had his clothes nor had he asked.

He shook his head and wrote: No. Just you.

"You won't even miss me" she teased lightly, thankful to be avoiding any further inquiry.

You know I love you, right?

"Of course" she reassured him.

And you can tell me anything.

"Yes" she agreed hesitatingly, concerned that she was not yet home free.

So if something were wrong, you would tell me, right? I don't want you to protect me.

His words had given her pause. She wasn't trying to protect him – not really. She was just trying to keep everything manageable. She had cupped his cheek and gently stroked her thumb along his skin. "I would tell you" she reassured him. "I'm okay – I promise."

As she had reached for the remote to turn the movie back on, she missed the stormy look that passed through his eyes.

xxxxxx
The room was a hive of activity. There seemed to be several more people who had joined the group in the time she had been away; she had mixed feelings about that. On one hand she was pleased that they had found the courage to come forward and talk about the reality of living with the virus. On the other hand, she hated how the numbers, even after almost three decades, still seemed to be growing not shrinking.

Weaving through a couple of people she headed for the back of the room where the refreshments were laid out. Tip toeing to where the cookies were, she stood right behind Darren.

"Still trying to find the ones with the most chocolate chips?" she asked teasingly.

Spinning around, he dropped the cookies in his hand and pulled her in to a tight embrace. "I am so glad to see you" he told her.

Robin hugged him back. "It's nice to be seen" she said as she slowly let go of him.

"How are you?"

Robin gave a small shrug. "My viral load hasn't come down so my meds have gone up" she told him as non-chalantly as she could.

His face dropped. "That sucks."

She nodded. "Completely."

Grabbing a couple of cookies and some napkins, he ushered her over to the chairs. As they sat down, she shook her head at the offer of a cookie nearly turning green as she did so.

Darren nodded his understanding. "How bad is it?"

"Bad" she admitted for the first time out loud. "I swear I used to have a much higher tolerance for changes in my meds but now it's knocking the stuffing out of me."

"It gets harder every time" he agreed. "The last time I couldn't get out of bed for three days."

She grimaced, knowing how he felt. "Not an option for me"

"Patrick?" he asked. She nodded. "How is he?"

Robin smiled bravely. "He's okay. The tumour is out and he's on the mend. There are some issues that he has to deal with but all in all it's a very good result."

"I'm really pleased" he told her. "But he doesn't know about you, does he?"

Sighing, she rubbed her hand over her face. She hated that she felt dishonest when people asked her that. She wasn't lying to him and at the end of the day it was her condition, to manage as she felt appropriate. Right now telling Patrick didn't feel appropriate.

"No" she answered simply. "And if you're about to lecture me save your breath, okay? I'm not interested."

The corners of his mouth twitched up into a smile as he held up his hands. "I surrender."

Robin laughed lightly, shaking her head. "I'm sorry" she told him. "It's just everyone seems to have an opinion on how I should handle this with Patrick and I'm not looking for that."

"What are you looking for?"

Robin was quiet for a minute as she contemplated her answer. She tucked her hair behind her ears and smiled shyly. "Reassurance" she answered finally. "And some comfort"

Taking a bite of a cookie, Darren grinned. "Well then, I think you've come to the right place."

xxxxx
Robin listened attentively as others spoke and yet again was amazed at how similar their experiences were at the most basic level. There was much the group members did not have in common but the one thread binding them all together was a strong one. Taking a last nervous mouthful of her juice, she swallowed it down and cleared her throat.

"My viral load is climbing" she said softly. "I've been one of the very lucky ones. I was diagnosed pre-cocktail and have been, for all intents and purposes, very healthy over the last decade. I've had a couple of bumps along the way but this is…." She exhaled softly and continued, "this is the first time that my viral load hasn't responded the way it normally does and it's scaring the shit out of me. My doctor has told me that if it doesn't stabilize then I'm going to need a new protocol and I have to admit that has sent my mind into all kinds of dark places.

It used to be that death was the big bad. But I don't think that anymore. I'm a doctor" she smiled, "and if I'm really honest I would say that I'm not afraid of death – death is a state, a passive state. But I do worry about dying – because there's nothing passive about it. I'm afraid of the pain mostly," she admitted. "But it's not even really death and dying that has me kind of freaked out. It's the reaction and side effects of changing my protocol. The last time I had to go through it, I was beyond miserable. I had every possible side effect and then some – cramps, vomiting, spots all over my body – it was the most difficult thing I had ever gone through. I lived on my bathroom floor for almost two weeks. I had no idea what was waiting for me back then when I changed meds but I do now and that makes it 100 times worse.

The anticipation of how bad it might be is stressing me out. I had moments, then, when I felt like giving up. I was living alone then and…and there wasn't anyone really depending on me so it was okay to feel weak or sad. But I have a boyfriend now and I…" Her eyes welled with tears. "I don't want him to see me covered in purple spots. It's vain, I know but I don't…..I don't like too many reminders that I'm sick."

There was a murmur of assent in the group. For so many of them they had already travelled the same path or knew that it was waiting for them. Robin's words rang true with them and she took strength from their understanding.

"Most of all though," she continued, "it just really pisses me off. I hate this fucking virus. I hate it. It controls so much of my life already and the idea that I have to give up another two or three weeks to it so my viral load can go back in its box makes me so mad! I don't have two or three weeks to give up – I don't have time to waste." Her hand trembled as she reached for her glass and took another drink of juice. "I don't want to do this" she said plaintively. "Any of it. I don't want to do it but I'm going to and I know I'm going to make it through because I'm looking at a room filled with people who have already been there."

Her voice hitched as her throat thickened with tears she swallowed down. Asking for help was hard. And she wasn't very good at it but she knew she needed it and though she couldn't bring herself to ask for it from the people she loved, she could ask here.

"I am very grateful for the example you all have set" she told them tearfully, sniffling as she did so. Taking a breath she wrapped her fingers around her necklace, rubbing the heart between her thumb and forefinger. "And as much as I hate this, I believe I'm going to be okay."