December 31, 2002 - Tuesday
Happy New Year
From Making Contexts:
box In or box Out?
competence realizes fault
sharp and man classic
November 07, 2002
stuck inside magnet walls
pulling me in all directions
December 23, 2002
must be happening someplace
cram it all in
December 30, 2002
Testing and expanding abilities.
Ultimately, it's not about the money.
Without this, there cannot be that.
Nobody elses rules, no more than anything else.
Paper clips, I gotta remember paper clips.
December 31, 2002
December 28, 2002 - Saturday
What's he on about?, somebody once asked
It wasn't clear then; and after all this time, still, who knows.
(A long post to an email list.)
Thanks, Beel, for the heads-up on this new Social Club. I stopped following the CREST list about the time I resigned as editor of TLS and got the hell out of New Mexico... has it already been, like, almost three years? I miss Salami!—and will encourage her to sign up here if she hasn't already. I'm so totally fortunate to have friends like you people.
I haven't made it out to northern Washington state yet, or even South Dakota. Now established (after a fashion—and possibly only for the winter) in Ithaca NY with the Dearest One (though I'm writing from the in-laws' in Maryland), I recently tried subscribing to the CREST list again several times over a couple weeks, but never received the autoreply confirmation thing. I found out through the grapevine that it evidently had died a mysterious death; then, well afterward, saw the same notice Wolfie did (wish I'd had the scratch to make it down under, sigh) at the CREST website about the lists being restored sometime soon. Took 'em long enough to say something about it. Don't know if things are fixed there now or not.
As for me, I'm thinking that fresher is probably better as far as SB lists go. Before I left the CREST list all those moons ago, it somehow had become not nearly as much fun as it once was. I assumed the problem was my own, recognizing that while I'd once had a sense of goofball humor and giddy wonder and boundless hope and puppydog enthusiasm for mud and sticks and straw, the bizarre path I'd chosen ended up leading me to a bad sort of spiritual exhaustion and frustration. I'd developed an un-fun, self-righteous attitude—possibly as a ridiculous attempt at self-defense—and it definitely (dis)colored my view of everything.
But out with the bad air, in with the good. I've been increasingly successful at letting it go as time goes by, and that rosy-fingered dawn lights the sky again. (Everything is always about me, for those of you who don't know me, or who may have forgotten, or haven't heard.) (I suppose it probably is true, though, that at least some part of the apparent downturn of the CREST list could be traced back to that knob who took over listmomming from founder JoE.) ("Principal Says Foot Is Self.") (Yes, yes, I am that knob.)
I had a bit of a healing experience (another in a long and continuing series of them) when I read a terrific essay a couple-three months ago by what's-his-name... uh... the ostensible Kentucky farmer—Wendell Berry, that's it—called "In Distrust of Movements," reprinted in a local sustainable ag magazine. (Here we go, I've found a copy of it.) I had hacked down a version of it—totally without permission—for the TLS anniversary issue in lieu of actually writing something, but I suspect it didn't get used. And rightly so, probably. (Has that issue mailed? I'd been led to believe that there's a picture of me flashing my pearly whites in it, in some kind of Memorial Hall Of Fallen Editors piece.)
Anyway. The disembodied head of M J Epko says "feh." I gots me a life again, or am starting to.
Touring the Ecovillage at Ithaca shortly after we got to the area, and then on the ASES tour soon after that, we found that there's a sturdy little streak of natural-buildy sorts around. (And the biggest PV installation on the east coast, too: on the roof of the public library, downtown Ithaca.) It even turned out that there's a natural builder's group that meets once a month, at a different place each time. Finger Lakes Natural Builder's Group, I think they call themselves. A wonderful bunch of smart, caring, active people. The most recent meeting had a slideshow from Josh Jackson, a Massachusetts timberframer pal of Paul Lacinski.
And speaking of Paul, he'll be leading a springtime bale-stack at the upper-middle-class Ecovillage (on Rachel Carson Way, natch) after he gets back from yet another stint in Mongolia. I wonder how alarming it is for those unsuspecting Mongols when that booming voice of his comes rolling across the steppes like thunder. Paul's so cool.
We also attended a small timber-frame raising not long ago in Trumansburg—where Bob Moog developed his synthesizer and set up a storefront shop for his manufacturing and distribution. Pics (of timberframing, not synthesizers) for anybody interested. No commentary, no instruction... just a few actual photos of a few actual people in the act of assembling a timber frame. The guy that cut it had never cut a frame before, and hadn't even done any heavy building. He just got it in his head to cut a frame for a long porch on the back of his house, went about teaching himself how to do it, and did it. (An old photo of Moog's Trumansburg storefront, for you imaginary disappointed ones.)
There's other projects around, most notably an ongoing straw-clay cottage project. There was some little discussion stemming from it about that hoary beast, "Breathability." Apparently there's a German source of some fairly consequential air infiltration numbers through straw-clay walls, and that's evidently fueled the long-held speculation about straw-clay walls acting as giant heat exchangers as well as providing air changes. I don't know the source—or if it cites density, pressures, and perhaps most importantly, if the wall in question was a system: that is, plastered. If anybody has input about that, this skeptic is interested in learning more.
I don't chase after this sort of stuff—reports, projects, and like that—anywhere near as zealously as I used to... and I find that I'm happier for it. Things happen as they should. Maybe not always as I'd like; but they do happen, if I just let them. Having said that, if I'm lucky I'll get to meet Clark Sanders one day while I'm here in the upper east coast.
I've been looking for money work—finding tons of it, and accepting almost none. Most of what I'm "qualified" to do is impoverishing stuff of the sort that perpetuates the culture of excess (I heard Wm McDonough explain his view that the way we use the word "consumer" is seriously flawed: anything that goes to a landfill hasn't actually been "consumed"), where gruntworker productivity goes multiples of times farther in improving the quality of life for people farther up the food chain than their own. (A close self-examination at this point would reveal what a haughty two-faced whiner I am, so I'll assiduously avoid that.) And so, clinging steadfastly to a set of principles that don't really do me any particular good, I'm still unemployed. I have a couple webclients, but nothing that provides a living wage. I nearly had something good with Cornell University Press, but in the end I got mired in their "short list of three." I had a wonderful response from Stephen Morris about doing something—anything—with Chelsea Green, but now he (and just about everyone else) is outta there. There was a brief flurry of possibility when I was contacted by an editor at Mother Earth News, but that mysteriously went nowhere. Stuff like that. Obviously this can't go on, and eventually I'll get smart and figure out what to do about it, get ambitious, then do it.
Meantime, life churns ever on, with we things squirming blindly around in its hollows and recesses.
Enough pointless chatter. For the moment.
Oops, no, maybe not. (Once I get these things started, I don't seem to know how to make them stop.) The local natural builder's group doesn't have a listserver: they have a volunteer guy who maintains a list of addresses in his email program and redistributes stuff. I don't know why they do it that way. Anyway, I mailed him something after the last meeting to send around, but it didn't happen. Possibly I sounded like a know-it-all jerk outsider acting too big for his britches (which I think in my enthusiasm I sometimes do though I never intend to—it was especially bad, for other reasons, a couple years ago when I'd become utterly dour), or possibly it didn't happen because I neglected to tell him that I wanted him to send it around, or both.
Anyway, there may be something interesting or useful to somebody here on this list, or not. (Probably not—there seems to be an inordinate number of exceptionally well-informed people here.)
Appended message follows:
- - - - -
I tell ya, these meetings... THAT's what natural building is all about: people. In Minnesota, when I first got into this stuff, I couldn't find a local community—or much information that wasn't by and for deserts. Later, my time in that ghost town in the middle of nowhere-southwestern-New-Mexico was interesting and ultimately fruitful... but as it happened, made for a particularly unbalanced period of my life. Fortunately, I did get out from time to time to participate in some way-cool doin's.
The reason for this email: I meant to put something together for general distribution after the last meeting, even though nobody asked for it, to point at info on the internet pertinent to some conversations I had with people, and the meeting's topic, hoping it might be helpful. As so many things do, though, it ended up by the wayside. This time, I'm doing it while I'm still fresh.
These are some things I happen to know about. I may or may not have been directly involved in any of them in some aspect.
Picking up where Josh Jackson's slide-show left off, here's an insanely cool fork in a massive roundwood timberframe; note that it's been scribed to a rock at its base. This is Sun Ray Kelley stuff... the kind of person William was probably referring to before the slide show when he good-spiritedly mentioned "those wacky west-coasters." Also note the nonlinear straw-clay wall lower on the page. Some action shots of that wall being made the previous year. General views of that structure-in-progress. More photos of that timberframer's work.
Josh mentioned Alfred von Bachmayr's straw-clay mixing machine, which he called "the worm." An introductory article to straw-clay by Frank Andresen. Something Frank wrote in '97 about woodchip-clay. Robert Laporte and Paula Baker-Laporte, and the straw-clay Econest. (Note the link on that site to the New Mexico straw-clay building code... er, "guideline." I consider this yet another building-code failure. Of course, New Mexico is the only place in the world to adopt strawbale codes that flat-out reject load-bearing; however, apparently anybody who wants to can get a variance just by asking, so that's A Good Thing. Maybe just the introduction of straw-clay has merit, even if the execution of the code has flawed aspects.)
Regarding the breathability of composite wall systems, there's a fascinating report about the permeability of various plasters/stuccos/renders, including earthen. The information, while (curiously) indicated to be in specific reference to strawbale, should be equally applicable to any wall system. A synopsis of the study is available in pdf format (Adobe Acrobat) from the CMHC, which is sort of like the Canadian equivalent of HUD in the US. The full report is available in hard copy from the CMHC—free to Canadians, but at a cost to anyone else. However, a draft copy of the full report can be downloaded from the Masonry Heater Association's special collections library. A post to an email list points out that air permeability and vapor permeability aren't the same thing. An article which is again about strawbale but contains info pertinent to other materials and systems (in fact, often derived from other materials and systems in the first place)—facts and figures about air migration, specifically regarding moisture vapor but also applicable to air changes and whole-structure "breathability." (Even though I was the principle author of this article, I may not be as completely convinced about some of it as I once was.)
Three helpful articles about earth plasters, and one about earth and straw generally, by Keely Meagen, Cedar Rose, Carol Crews, and Athena and Bill Steen.
A brief article about an evapo-transpirative wastewater system along the lines of a Living Machine. Living Machine? A science-based intro to composting toilets, with a decidedly less-fun throne-side manner than Joe Jenkins. Oh, and by the way—speaking of Joe Jenkins—for those who don't already know, The Humanure Handbook is online in its ENTIRETY. Free. Give it a read.
A Natural / Alternative Building Photo Gallery I put together.
That's all that's coming to mind at the moment...
- - - - -
End appended email.
Oh, something else—Has anybody seen the DCAT CD/video/soon-to-be-DVD? How is it?
Alright, I'm stopping.
December 24, 2002 - Tuesday
December 23, 2002 - Monday
December 22, 2002 - Sunday
11-year cycles in popular music
1962: Telstar, offspring of Joe Meek, hits #1 on the US singles chart. I was one year old.
1973: Elton John's album "Goodbye Yellow Brick Road" hits #1 on the UK charts.
1984: Madonna's song Like A Virgin hits #1 in the US.
(This entry has fizzled out.)
1845: "The device, developed by German inventor Joseph Faber, used a keyboard connected to a series of reeds, bellows, and chambers that mimicked the human mouth, tongue, teeth, larynx, and lungs. The machine produced sixteen basic syllables and could pronounce any word in any Western language. A mechanical head attached to the machine seemed to emit the strange-sounding but recognizable speech."
December 21, 2002 - Saturday
I'm getting really really interested in this thing. Need to come up with a couple hundred bucks.
Independent user reviews
Oh, yeah: What it is
December 19, 2002 - Thursday
December 17, 2002 - Tuesday
Not sure what to make of this one
Last night I dreamed that my mom was singing Banlon Shirt by the Ass Ponys. Accepting interpretations. (Jungian preferred.)
December 16, 2002 - Monday
December 15, 2002 - Sunday
1. A person who hates another, and wishes or tries to injure them; foe.
2. A nation or force hostile to another; military or wartime adversary. Troops, fleet, ship, member, etc. of a hostile nation.
3. A person hostile to an idea, cause, etc.
4. Anything injurious or harmful.
"... the enemy of the black is not the white. The enemy of capitalist is not communist, the enemy of homosexual is not heterosexual, the enemy of Jew is not Arab, the enemy of youth is not the old, the enemy of hip is not redneck, the enemy of Chicano is not gringo and the enemy of women is not men.
"We all have the same enemy.
"The enemy is the tyranny of the dull mind.
"There are authoritative blacks with dull minds, and they are the enemy. The leaders of capitalism and the leaders of communism are the same people, and they are the enemy. There are dull-minded women who try to repress the human spirit, and they are the enemy just as much as the dull-minded men.
"The enemy is every expert who practices technocratic manipulation, the enemy is every proponent of standardization and the enemy is every victim who is so dull and lazy and weak as to allow himself to be manipulated and standardized.
"...We will destroy the tyranny of the dull. But we can't destroy it with guns... Violence fertilizes that which we would starve... but... we can't love the dull away either. We only pollute our own waters when we try to extend our true affection to those who don't know how to accept love or to give it. Love is very powerful, but it has limits...
"No, we will destroy the enemy in other ways."
—Delores del Ruby, at the end of the book
Even Cowgirls Get The Blues, by Tom Robbins
I finished the book (again), so won't be quoting from it anymore. Until next time I read it.
December 14, 2002 - Saturday
The secret of poetry
From chapter 111a, Even Cowgirls Get The Blues, Tom Robbins:
"Poetry is nothing more than an intensification or illumination of common objects and everyday events until they shine with their singular nature, until we can experience their power, until we can follow their steps in the dance, until we can discern what parts they play in the Great Order of Love. How is this done? By fucking around with syntax."
Isn't that also how politics and religion work?
Which begs the question: Does anything actually have a singular nature? Isn't the reason there are multiple politics and religions—and poets!—because once a thing is discerned, it doesn't have a singular nature? Because for a thing to be known, it has to be in a context: things are defined by their relationships to other things. Seems to me that there are only singular views, singular interpretations... which can and often are shared by any number of people, who almost always seem to believe that things do have singular natures.
It's a nice paradox, though: the suggestion that a thing's singular nature can be clarified (defined, divined) by messing with the arrangement of multiple words and ideas and attitudes and emotions and definitions surrounding it.
December 12, 2002 - Thursday
Laurie and Jane... but first, a grimacing dog that seems to be named Mavis
From the moveablebeast sidebar... where you'll also find links for Laurie Anderson and Jane Siberry, two longtime favorites of mine.
Having listened entirely too much to Big Science, I met Laurie Anderson just after her next record, Mister Heartbreak, came out—but it was in a record store at a record-store thing, so really, it hardly counts.
Her reaction to me was a little odd. She was fielding a line of fans, chattering and smiling; when my turn came along, as I was about to say Hello, she looked up and sort of... stopped. To this day I don't know if she thought she recognized me from somewhere, or if I was looking particularly like a crazed psychopathic stalker or something—more than I usually do—or what. Whatever it was, our special time together only lasted a few seconds. (That sounded like something a crazed psychopathic stalker would say, didn't it?)
My brother had a copy of You're The Guy I Want To Share My Money With, too, which came out the year before Big Science.
And Jane Siberry, I saw a show she did at the Fine Line—an upscale, intimate, and very clean club in Minneapolis—a few years ago... around the time of Maria. 1995 or '96, I guess.
First time I heard her was on KFAI, when they played this quirky thing called Mimi On The Beach. Turned out the only way to get it was as an import... all the way from Canada. Ooh. But that's what got me started on Jane, back when she was an independent singer-songwriter... like she is now once again.
But ya know, I'm a fine one to talk about either of these two. The last recording by Laurie that I got was United States I-IV, and the last Jane was When I Was A Boy (which came out a year or so before the concert...)
December 11, 2002 - Wednesday
I would've been a good AV geek for them
More of the same.
"I wish to thank you for allowing us to review your credentials for the position of Audio Visual Technician (CT4103) in the College of Human Ecology. However, after reviewing all of the application materials received for the position, we have determined that another applicant's qualifications more closely fit our department's needs."
December 7, 2002 - Saturday
Home is where you park it
Eight feet wide and twenty-six feet long. Includes galley kitchen, bathroom, bedroom, dinette and couch, as well as an office, after a fashion. Harbors the Dearest One and I, and a larger measure of our stuff than might be expected.
We were on our way from Rockville MD to Bellingham WA, but only made it as far as Ithaca NY. We may or may not decide to stay here.
December 6, 2002 - Friday
Does it have anything to do with the song Funeral March of a Marionette, by Charles Gounod (a.k.a. the Alfred Hitchcock Theme)? Probably not.
In the middle of massacring "Whole Lotta Love" on All The Pancakes You Can Eat, Plus Bacon (PIG FAT), somebody in or near the Baby Astronauts asks, "Has anybody seen my puppets?"
It's not even subtle. How have I always missed that?
December 5, 2002 - Thursday
You suppose to laugh! ok?
"gokigen ikaga?" = "How are you?" What's funny? We call squid "ika." So ika says "gokigen 'IKA' ga?" You suppose to laugh! ok?
These cumulatively-augmented pictures (like Photoshop Tennis, but lowbrow) came from an exchange my best man Salami and I had one year and ten months ago.
December 4, 2002 - Wednesday
Poo: the final chapter
Armed with blow dryer, I tackled the graywater valve first.
The whine attracted the attention of Truck Driver Dick (husband of Helen of Texas) who was out walking their dust-bunny of a dog. "Mine's froze up, too!" he cried. Dick and Helen have a heated basement on their gigantor fifth wheel trailer, and their valves are inside that—something like ours should be. But their valves were frozen despite the cushy arrangement. Hmm. "Happened to us two years ago, too!" he went on. (Dick talks in exclamations.) "Took me three days to get it thawed out! Wouldn't even bother if I was you!"
But the valve was already starting to work, so I left the dryer running. Before long it slid open, shrugging its shoulders and saying, "What!? What!?" So innocent. I left it open, and will leave it that way until the cold snap lifts: another five to seven days, the people inside the TV figure. Can't see that enough ice will accumulate in those well-sloped three-inch plastic pipes in that amount of time to cause heartbreak.
Got the blackwater valve open too, and will also leave that open—which is supposed to be a no-no in any weather, because solids can build up on the bottom of the tank. But we're talking about a week or less, so again: can't see the harm. We'll just flush with more water in the meantime, and I'll give it a good cleaning soon, when the temperature gets above freezing.
December 3, 2002 - Tuesday
The (unfortunately) ongoing poo saga
(for ferragamogirl's Dec 2nd)
This morning, neither valve would open despite the masterful installation of heat tape. A call to the manufacturer for recommendations wasn't any real help: they said we could try using antifreeze to prevent freeze-ups (this we knew, but thought we didn't need to do things like that, since the tanks are insulated and heated)... and that a hair-drier would probably work to defrost the valves (which we came up with on our own—we simply lacked having one, or wanting to have one).
Oh, and it turns out that now they're making these trailers with the valves recessed into the heated space, where they should have been in the first place. Humph.
So it was off to the store again, and we're now the ever-so-proud owners of a hair dryer. The box says, "Revlon Revlon new feel 1875 watt dryer new feel Touch our new feel texture with soft feel texture." Sweet. Touch it. Touch it. Just touch that new feel. With such a device, our poo may yet flow.
Antifreeze has been added to both tanks. I'll try giving the valves that always-in-fashion hot hot hot windswept Farrah look tomorrow, and we'll see how (or, rather, if) things go down.
Now, if we had our own place here...
One of the perils of winter camping: poo frozen in the chute
The wastewater valves froze shut. Truck Driver Dick, husband of Helen of Texas, said they would. Everyone else said they wouldn't. Dick was right.
So I went and got a heat tape. Wiggling around on my back under the trailer, wearing two shirts and two coats for warmth, balancing a roll of duct tape and roll of electrical tape and a ball of twine and a pocket knife on my stomach, I wrapped the heat tape around the frozen valves and the pipes sticking out from the holding tanks; then wrapped all that with scratchy fiberglass insulation, then wrapped all that with plastic.
Before long, the blackwater valve started working. Some time later, the graywater valve could be opened part way—enough so that some water would trickle out. Hopefully by tomorrow it will be warmed up and trouble-free for the rest of winter. (Hopefully we won't have to put tapes on the tanks themselves: they're insulated, are theoretically warmed by heat from the living space, and aren't supposed to freeze.)
Did I mention that it's finally gotten cold? Tomorrow's supposed to be the first day this winter that stays below freezing.
As I was finishing up my little adventure under the RV, it started to snow. There's about three inches now.
Item 1: The freshwater hose has been heat-taped lo these several weeks, and was a much easier feat.
Item 2: Things here and nearby recently: ithaca.pdf (635KB)
Item 3: Dick and Helen have the tiniest dog ever. It looks like the dust mop for a household-chores action figure.
December 2, 2002 - Monday
December 1, 2002 - Sunday
Today is World AIDS Day.Snippets from the HIV/AIDS Frequently Asked Questions of The United States Agency for International Development:
In 2001, 40 million people around the world were living with HIV/AIDS.
Globally, 50 percent of adults living with HIV/AIDS are women.
More than 8,000 people die every day due to AIDS. AIDS caused 3 million deaths in 2001, 580,000 among children under 15. An estimated 24.8 million people have died from AIDS since the beginning of the pandemic.
There were 5 million new HIV infections in 2001, or almost 14,000 people per day.
How is HIV transmitted?
- Sexual contact (mostly heterosexual): 80%
- Mother-to-child transmission: 10%
- Injecting drug use: 5%
- Blood transfusion: 5%
- Exposure in a health care setting: 0.01%
In 2001, 800,000 children under 15 were newly infected with HIV, bringing the total number of children living with HIV to 3 million. More than half of all new HIV infections occur among 15-24 year olds.
The following is adapted from the A.D.A.M. Health Illustrated Encyclopedia, via the Health Library at MerckSource.
Acquired immune deficiency syndrome
AIDS stands for "Acquired Immune Deficiency Syndrome." AIDS is caused by the Human Immunodeficiency Virus (HIV). AIDS is the final and most serious stage of HIV disease, in which the signs and symptoms of severe immune deficiency have developed.
Causes, incidence, and risk factors:
AIDS is the fifth leading cause of death among persons between ages 25 and 44 in the United States. About 47 million people worldwide have been infected with HIV since the start of the epidemic.
The Human Immunodeficiency Virus (HIV) causes AIDS. The virus attacks the immune system and leaves the body vulnerable to a variety of life-threatening illnesses and cancers. Common bacteria, yeast, parasites, and viruses that ordinarily do not cause serious disease in people with fully functional immune systems can cause fatal illnesses in people with AIDS.
HIV has been found in saliva, tears, nervous system tissue, blood, semen (including pre-seminal fluid, or "pre-cum"), vaginal fluid, and breast milk. However, only blood, semen, vaginal secretions, and breast milk have been proven to transmit infection to others.
Transmission of the virus occurs:
HIV infection is NOT spread by casual contact such as hugging and touching, by touching dishes, doorknobs, or toilet seats, during participation in sports, or by mosquitoes. It is NOT transmitted to a person who donates blood or organs. However, it can be transmitted to the person receiving blood or organs from an infected donor. This is why blood banks and organ donor programs screen donors, blood, and tissues thoroughly.
Those at highest risk include homosexual or bisexual men engaging in unprotected sex, intravenous drug users who share needles, the sexual partners of those who participate in high-risk activities, infants born to mothers with HIV, and persons who received blood transfusions or clotting products between 1977 and 1985 (prior to standard screening for the virus in the blood).
AIDS begins with HIV infection. People who become infected with HIV may have no symptoms for up to ten years, but they can still transmit the infection to others. Meanwhile, their immune system gradually weakens until they are diagnosed with AIDS. Acute HIV infection progresses over time to asymptomatic HIV infection and then to early symptomatic HIV infection and later, to AIDS (very advanced HIV infection):
HIV Infection (acute HIV infection) -->early asymptomatic HIV infection -->early symptomatic HIV infection -->AIDS
Most individuals infected with HIV will progress to AIDS if not treated. However, there is a very small subset of patients who develop AIDS very slowly or never at all. These patients are called non-progressors.
The symptoms of AIDS are primarily the result of infections that do not normally develop in individuals with healthy immune systems. These infections are termed "opportunistic infections."
Patients with AIDS have had their immune system destroyed by HIV and are susceptible to such opportunistic infections. The general symptoms are fevers, sweats, chills, weakness, and weight loss. See the signs and tests section below for a list of the common AIDS-defining opportunistic infections and the major symptoms associated with them.
Note: Initial infection may produce no symptoms. Some people with HIV infection remain without symptoms for years between the time of exposure and development of AIDS.
At the present time, there is no cure for AIDS. It has proven to be a universally fatal illness. However, most patients survive many years following diagnosis. Treatment has dramatically increased the time from diagnosis to death, and research continues in drug treatments and vaccine development.
When a patient is infected with HIV, the virus slowly begins to destroy that patient's immune system. How fast this occurs is different in each individual. Treatment can help slow and even halt the destruction of the immune system. However, once the immune system is severely destroyed, that patient is said to have developed AIDS, and is now susceptible to infections and cancers that most healthy adults would not get.
Prevention of AIDS requires foresight and self-discipline. The requirements often seem personally restrictive, but they are effective and can save your life.
Calling your health care provider:
Call for an appointment with your health care provider if you have any of the risk factors for AIDS, or if symptoms of AIDS are present. By law, AIDS testing must be kept confidential. Your health care provider will review results of your testing with you.