A Birthday to Remember: The Story of Chantal

My birthday has always been a day of celebration, filled with laughter, friends, and family. But one year later, it became a day of profound sorrow and reflection. It was the day I lost my dear friend to HIV. Let's hide him in the name of Chantal.

Chantal and I had been inseparable since the start of pandemic. We shared a love for music, mobile games, late-night conversations while drinking beer, and spontaneous adventures. He was the kind of friend who would drop everything to be there for you, no matter the time or place. His energy was infectious, and his kindness knew no bounds.

Chantal was diagnosed with HIV in 2021. The initial shock was overwhelming for him, and he struggled with fear and uncertainty about the future. Our close-knit group of friends rallied around him, determined to support him through this challenging time. He faced the news with remarkable strength and determination. We made sure that we are there to support him 

His journey was not easy. There were days when he felt overwhelmed by the stigma and the physical toll of the disease. But we made sure he knew we were there for him, no matter what. We help him find the nearest treatment facility where he can get his antiretroviral therapy for free. We accompanied him to his doctor’s appointments, helped him manage his medication schedule, and ensured he had a healthy diet.

Chantal started antiretroviral therapy (ART) soon after his diagnosis. We were hopeful that the medication would help him manage the virus and lead a healthy life. However, as the weeks went by, he began to experience severe side effects. He complained of dizziness, nausea, and, most disturbingly, hallucinations. He said that his doctor explained that hallucinations were a rare side effect of ART. 

At first, the hallucinations were mild. Chantal would see a ball of fire moving in the corners of the window or hear faint whispers of a plate in front of him. He brushed them off as side effects of the medication, hoping they would pass. But as time went on, the hallucinations became more intense and frequent. It broke my heart to see my friend in such a state.

Over time, with the right combination of medication and therapy, Chantal’s hallucinations began to subside. He regained his confidence and started to rebuild his life. 

One of the most significant ways we supported Chantal was by creating a safe space for him to express his feelings. We had regular check-ins where he could talk about his fears, frustrations, and hopes. These conversations were often emotional, but they strengthened our bond and helped him feel less isolated.

We also made it a point to keep life as normal as possible. We continued our get-togethers, movie nights, and food trips. These moments of normalcy were crucial for Chantal, reminding him that his diagnosis did not define him or his life.

On Christmas Eve, Chantal waited eagerly for a call from his family in the province. He had sent them money, hoping to bring some joy to their celebrations. But as the night went on, his phone remained silent. He tried calling them, but there was no answer. He consoled himself, thinking they might be busy with the festivities.

As New Year’s Eve approached, he hoped things would be different. He sent another round of messages and tried calling his family again. But once more, there was no response. The clock struck midnight, and the new year began without a single word from his loved ones.

Chantal confided in me about how hurt he felt. “I know they’re busy, but it feels like they’ve forgotten about me,” he said, his voice tinged with sadness. “I just wanted to feel connected to them, especially during the holidays.” I tried to comfort him by saying that maybe he should be happy for them instead, but he was disappointed with my words and felt invalidated.

Few months had passed, Chantal’s health began to decline. He became more withdrawn, often canceling plans and avoiding our calls. We attributed it to the emotional burden of his diagnosis and tried to give him space while still offering our support.

As my birthday approached in August 2022, we planned a small gathering at my apartment, just a few close friends, good food, and music. But as the day drew near, I received a call from Chantal’s sister that he was admitted to the hospital in Manila. His condition had worsened, and he was too weak to leave. We can't visit him in the hospital because of the pandemic.

As the day turned into night, Chantal’s condition deteriorated rapidly. Surrounded by his family, he took his last breath. The room was filled with a heavy silence, broken only by the quiet sobs of those who loved him. As we gathered to mourn his passing, we discovered a heartbreaking truth: we found 6 bottles of antiretroviral drugs, Chantal had not been taking his medication. Despite our efforts to support him, he had struggled in silence, unable to adhere to his treatment regimen.

The revelation was a shock to all of us. We had assumed that he was managing his condition with the same strength and determination he had shown in other aspects of his life. But the reality was that he had been battling not just the disease, but also the fear, stigma, and emotional toll it took on him.

Losing Chantal on my birthday was a heart-wrenching experience. It turned a day of joy into one of deep sorrow. But as I reflected on our friendship and the impact he had on my life, I realized that Chantal’s legacy would live on. He had touched so many lives, including mine, with his courage and his unwavering spirit.

In the years that followed, my birthday became a day of remembrance. I would gather with friends and family, not just to celebrate another year of my life, but to honor Chantal's memory. We would share stories about him, laugh about the good times, and remind ourselves of the importance of compassion and understanding.

Chantal’s journey was a powerful reminder of the fragility of life and the strength of the human spirit. His fight against HIV and his dedication to raising awareness left an indelible mark on all who knew him. Though he is no longer with us, his spirit continues to inspire and guide me.