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i was crouching slowly into the bath last night, trying to inch my way down while the water inched its way up. the phone rang.

"richard..." said socks.

"or, my dad..." i said, stepping out of the tub. i got to the phone, dripping and nude, for the last ring.

it was richard.

he was still in the hospital, and the results had been inconclusive as to what type of meningitis it was, but probably viral, maybe bacterial. they didn't seem to think it was cryptococcal. anyway. the very bad news is that his t-cell count was 70, the lowest it's ever been. he'd have to go on the prophylactic drugs to prevent any opporunistic infection.

i dripped onto the linoleum, told him that they'd been down before and back up. he's not got "full-blown" AIDS (i wish that term would vanish from the social lexicon).

don't go. don't.