From the forthcoming book ‘Consenting to Infection: HEP C and the Pandemic’
Mcdaggot, my ex-roommate, was the sole crusader post-diagnosis from my group of friends from New London.
The tone of our friendship had shifted since college. Gone were the days of our college camaraderie, replaced by attempts to recapture some semblance of normalcy. We traded the avant-garde brunches of New London for the supposed sophistication of Hudson Valley’s finest eateries. Our conversations, once filled with youthful exuberance, had devolved into a joust of insults. While they kept me tethered to some form of social life, these exchanges often left me wondering if we were communicating or just exchanging verbal jabs dressed up as dialogue.
And then there was Kim, the personification of my collegiate nemesis. The fallout from our cohabitation saga in New London had exacerbated my symptoms and led to a social exile of sorts. Kim’s resentment towards me had fermented like a fine wine from sour grapes and bitterness. Our mutual friends, caught in the crossfire, unanimously decided that siding with Kim was the safer bet, leaving me to navigate the murky waters of recovery with fewer lifelines than I had hoped.
The most poignant sting of isolation came from the loss of Patrick’s fiance, Cynthia. Learning of her marriage to my once-friend Patrick was a gut punch that no amount of mental preparation could soften. Once prosperous and supportive, our communication was relegated to the occasional emotionless text message. This digital ghosting constantly reminded me of the support network I once believed unbreakable but now frayed and disconnected.
Navigating this new reality felt like being the protagonist in a tragic comedy where the jokes were made at my expense, and the audience was my former circle of friends. Each attempt to reconnect or maintain a semblance of my old social life was met with challenges that mocked my efforts. Yet, in the face of these adversities, I couldn’t help but find the humor in my predicament. After all, if you can’t laugh at yourself while stumbling through a drugged haze in the quest for normalcy, what can you laugh at?
My journey through recovery and reconnection was less about reclaiming lost friendships and more about discovering resilience amidst the absurdity. It was a lesson in finding humor in the face of hardship, embracing the flawed tapestry of my post-graduation life, and learning that sometimes, the most significant connections are forged not in the presence of those who leave but in the space they leave behind.
J. Peters
Book Author.
