When I was diagnosed with HIV, I was 26 with one son at the time, named Micah. He was seven years old and was just a little kid dealing with some adult stuff — like dealing with his mom living with the virus. He was learning to stay strong for mom and he became my little big man. He made sure I took my medication. He brought it to me to take saying, “Mommy, make sure to take the medicine.”
And I remember times Micah would see me cry and be depressed because I felt alone. And I felt guilty about this boy helping me, and so ashamed that I could not deal with it at the time. Maybe I stopped taking the medicine, maybe I needed a break from it. My doctor said, “Ms. Anthony, you will not leave your child in this by himself.”
Micah is getting older. He is a college freshman and majoring in business management. This little big man became an adult. Working a job and still taking care of his mom and still telling her to take the medications.