Who is Thom DeLorenzo and why is he here? Because Thom is an activist of the highest order and goes to the mat when he finds a client, a cause or something that is of great import to him. Here's a bit about him and then his essay. Read more about him at the end of this piece.
Thomas DeLorenzo
Until just a few years ago, Thomas DeLorenzo never would have believed he could become an HIV/AIDS activist. Before he was "officially" diagnosed with HIV in 2001 -- with 60 T cells and a viral load of 300,000 -- Thomas had been living in denial. And until 2006, he was too busy dealing with the many side effects of his own HIV meds to think about helping anyone else. Then he and his doctors finally figured out the perfect med combo -- and for the first time in many years, Thomas felt, that he actually had a future..
I was not always this outspoken with my status. In fact, in the beginning, I was incredibly fearful. I knew I had AIDS well before the doctors made it official. I was living in denial not stupidity. I knew that when you lose as much weight as I did and you are eating McDonald's pretty much every day, something isn't working right. I knew that the sheets were not supposed to be wet every morning from my never-ending night sweats. I knew all that -- but I still did nothing about it.I like to say that I didn't make a move until I felt comfortable with my insurance. Being self-employed, I get the privilege of buying my own policy, making me vulnerable for cancellation at the insurance company's whim.
I tell people I didn't use my policy for the first year in fear of being cancelled for a pre-existing condition, but what really happened was I was just too scared to confront the truth. I had seen it all before and still was in complete disbelief that my body could actually betray me like this. I mean, didn't we have some unspoken bond, that if we worked together, we would be better off?
Apparently my body didn't get that memo.
Instead, I lied to everyone around me as to how I lost the weight, become gaunt looking, and just slowly removed myself from the social scene. As a publicist, you are expected to go out all of the time. I could barely make it through the day, much less spend the nights at endless events, and typically I would head straight to bed after work for what was only going to be a few minutes, turning quickly into the entire night. I would miss meals just because I was too tired to get up to do anything about them.
I finally opted to go and visit my long time therapist, Laura Morris. I just blurted out simply, "I am sick." Being the Jewish mother she was, she instantly clung to other reasons than that elephant I had now sitting in the room with me. Instead of giving me advice, she simply shared her news -- her breast cancer recently returned for the third time and she was in the middle of chemo treatments. I had my first survivor buddy.
Initially, I would just sit in my apartment crying, and not doing anything about what was going on. And I just kept getting sicker. At one point my father said, "Are you okay?" and I lied and said I was fine, knowing full well what was going on in my body.Christmas that year would be a challenge, for I could barely make it through the day. I had made this bargain with myself that I would get through the holiday and I would immediately find a doctor in Los Angeles and begin treatments. I was home, and it was December 26th, 2000, and I was having AIDS symptoms as if it were 1988 all over again. I was underweight by 25 pounds, experiencing spiking fevers and rarely made it off the couch, much less out of bed. I remember praying to God, to have him give me an appetite in Christmas Eve, so my family would not notice that I was hardly eating now.
I somehow found the nerve to attend my 20th high school reunion, in spite of the fact I looked horrible. I kidded myself with the fact that I was able to fit into smaller pants than I did in high school. Never mind that at that point I weighed what I weighed in high school -- something a man who was 38 should not exactly be able to say. I look at pictures of myself from that evening and just wonder what I was thinking. But yet I knew what I was thinking --- I thought I was going to die soon and this would be my last chance to see these people ever again.
I finally made it back to Los Angeles and began the promised hunt for a doctor. With it being between the holidays and having only a few brain cells now fully functioning, I had a difficult time finding a doctor. I finally caved and called a friend and asked for help. I told her I was sick. She said I probably had the flu. I said, "No." She paused.
Prior to that I honestly didn't think I deserved to be saved, that I had caused this to happen and I had all of this and more coming to me. I thought that people would run from me and that I would become this social pariah, alone and unloved. It was only when my back was against the wall that I reached out for help.
The first doctor's visit at Cedars-Sinai, on January 3, 2001, was, well, rather odd. I was completely scared to go alone, or be left alone at any part, and insisted that a friend come with me. This friend is a child television star. She was incredibly supportive, but everyone recognized her. It kind of made for an awkward tone for something so serious. In fact, when my blood was being drawn (for the very first time so I was horrible at it), she was busy signing autographs. It was completely absurd. My advice -- don't bring a public figure to such dramatic moments in your life.
The doctor immediately told me what I had feared so much hearing, that I was most probably HIV positive based on my wasting, no appetite and very noticeable thrush. But the doctor completely missed two major points -- that I had PCP [pneumocystis pneumonia] and that "thing" on my face was KS [Kaposi's sarcoma]. He insisted that he was a KS expert and it was not KS. I would find out he was completely wrong a few weeks later, after the PCP he insisted was not there either was finally out of my system.
A week later, on January 10th I was supposed to return to the hospital for my lab report, but I felt absolutely too weak to move. I called my doctor who gave me my laboratory results on the phone: I had AIDS: my CD4 was 60 and my viral load was 300,000. My doctor instructed me to come to the emergency room immediately. A friend picked me up and I was diagnosed with PCP in the emergency room. They admitted me and I was hooked up to intravenous Bactrim. It turned out to be a dramatic rescue. After I had stabilized, my doctor told me that I had been very close to dying. If I had stayed home, I would have lasted only two to three days more.
After a two-week stay at Cedars-Sinai, I finally found the courage inside me to fight this disease and move on with my life. Actually I can pinpoint the very moment -- it was after I told my mom. The second you tell your mother you have AIDS; everything is all downhill from there. I started immediately to make calls to everyone in my life that had to hear it out of my mouth first. That had to be the moment I took control of my virus.
Many doctors' visits followed. I ended up with a situation they had never seen before -- it now has a name Immune Reconstitution Inflammatory Syndrome, (IRIS) -- because no one had been to the brink and had come back like this before. At least not in 2001. They didn't see PCP and KS anymore. I became a textbook case and was poked and prodded by every intern Cedars could find in Los Angeles County.
There was a moment in March that reminded me of why I fought. It was when I met my second nephew for the first time. He was born as I was flying home to see my family. I just held him in my arms and thought, "My God, I almost didn't make it to meet you. I came so very close to not greeting you into this world." He was just coming into this world, and I came so very close to leaving it just a few weeks before.
Now, I have amazing health, can't keep my mouth shut about my struggles with HIV, am constantly looking for ways to help others with HIV that do not have the advantages I have --- it's a complete turn-around. I am about to do something few people attempt to do at my age, much less people with AIDS -- I plan to attend law school in Fall of 2010. The idea is to study health policy law and take my activism further and get a chance to make more of a difference for many, many more people.
AIDS has taught me much. I would have never guessed that something so very horrible would have turned into an amazing experience, but it really has. It has defined the man I am today, and I like the person I am becoming. I have traveled many roads that people with immune systems don't get a chance to -- good and bad. And I am no longer that scared, insecure boy from Schenectady, New York.
Activists are definitely made, and are not born.
Now Thomas works as a producer and publicist in the entertainment industry and has been widely recognized for his HIV/AIDS activism.
In 2006, the New York Times named him an Unsung Hero in the Fight Against HIV/AIDS for his Christmas Goody Bag Project for the residents of the San Antonio AIDS Foundation Hospice; and in 2008, Thomas was the Foundation's Angel of the Year. Recently, DeLorenzo's alma mater, Hofstra University, named him Alumnus of the Month for his work on behalf of people living with HIV/AIDS.
DeLorenzo is the final stages for the launch of his website, SwagforGood.org, where he can continue his Christmas Gift Project for other AIDS hospice patients throughout the country, such as Joseph's House in Washington, D.C. DeLorenzo will also be the opening speaker for the Hofstra University's Pride Network launch event on December 2, 2009.
When not reading or prepping for the LSAT, DeLorenzo writes about the need for a national health care plan from a person with AIDS point of view for the Huffingtonpost.com. His personal life includes lengthy discussions on great works of literature with his favorite accountant
Currently DeLorenzo is putting together his annual goody bags for the AIDS hospice and is seeking donations of items that would be as helpful and uplifting to these patients. If you have a company, brand, store or project that would like to contribute to this effort, please reach out to Thomas DeLorenzo here
LPW
It's my first distinct memory of my father: he's standing in our kitchen, making long-distance phone calls to relatives to make sure they'd done something--something he couldn't do for himself.
It was Tuesday, November 8, 1960, and I was five years old; my father was 48. And the "something" he couldn't do was to vote for John F. Kennedy. My father wasn't permitted to vote because we lived in Washington, DC.
It's understandable that a five-year-old didn't know that Washingtonians weren't able to vote. After all, most of the grownups I know now are surprised to learn that DC residents couldn't vote.
(The 23rd amendment to the US Constitution, which would grant Washingtonians the right to vote in presidential elections, would not be passed until March 29, 1961--my sixth birthday. I confess that I don't exactly remember the day, but I'm sure there was cake. Washingtonians still don't have voting members in Congress, which explains their license plate motto, "Taxation without representation!" It's also the reason that, when I'm asked if I'm from "Washington, the state," my response is, "No. Washington, the colony.")
After being assured that the extended family had, indeed, cast their votes for Kennedy, my father settled in to watch the election results on our living room TV. And I went to bed.
My second distinct memory of my father is discovering him the following morning, snoozing in front of the TV. (Richard Nixon had conceded to JFK at 3 a.m., DC time.) I remember being startled by the fact that he hadn't shaved. My father was a proper sort of gentleman; he wore a shirt and tie to work six days a week. And he shaved every day--twice. While some historians blame Richard Nixon's defeat on the appearance of dark stubble on his face during a televised debate with Kennedy, it was my father's 5 o'clock shadow that I remember best.
Every fall, my children are forced to listen to that story and endure a sermon on the incredible privilege of voting. They sigh and roll their eyes, signaling each other with that "here she goes again" look. I don't mind. The only thing that matters is that they treasure--and exercise--their right to vote.
*******
VOTE: don't think your vote, your voice won't make a difference! It does. This country was founded on the right to vote for the leadership and on issues. People have gone to war and *died * for the right to vote. This election-- and * any* election-- your voice counts.
Living In A Perfect World
What's your "perfect world"?
LPW
Here's a quote from the [Preppycrat post. ](http://preppycrat.blogspot.com/2008/10/not-stylish-not-preppy-and-definitely.html)
Courtesy of 
Now I will say that Mrs. McCain PAID for this $300 thousand dollar ++ outfit from her own wallet-- but given the economy then (and considered in retrospect with the current situation) this was just bad judgement. However it was *her* money.
2) Sarah Palin has let the RNC pick up the tab. Her stylist charged the RNC over $20k for the work she did which was almost 2x the amount that amount paid the McCain's foreign policy advisor. Does anyone see the problem with the rationale here?
What's more important: the appearance or the knowledge?
Your call here -- not mine.
However I don't care HOW a president looks (overly gaunt and tall --think Lincoln; in a wheelchair-- think FDR; wearing glasses because he's really got poor vision and was a wimpy kid-- think Teddy Roosevelt) , I care about what he--or she-- can do and how much they know. I want them to be intelligent and informed. I don't care if they are all that well-dressed. Especially in hard times when people are skittish and might be living in cars.(Recently spotted a couple people living in their car in our upper class are. I know someone who has been handing out Jackson's when people ask for a buck), this is not the image the RNC needs to be putting out on the table.
Here's another image that
According to [Preppycrat;](http://preppycrat.blogspot.com/2008/10/stylish-preppy-and-quite-democratic.html)
There is a gem of an article at
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