There was a time when I would have bet every cent I had on being just another statistic—someone whose name would be spoken in hushed tones, if at all. Another story of someone who didn’t make it. Yet, here I am, still standing, and every day feels like I’ve outplayed the odds.
In 2004, I found myself speaking to a room full of medical students at the University of Wisconsin. I was nervous, as usual, especially since I hadn’t done many university presentations at that point in my years of advocacy. But this wasn’t just a job or another presentation on HIV/AIDS—it was about being of service, about pouring my heart and soul into everything I did.
To break the ice with these bright future doctors, I tossed out one of my “I hope I make you think” moments. With a smirk, I said, “In 1984, when I was diagnosed, if you put Bob Bowers, JFK Jr., and Princess Diana into a pool as to who would have survived (then 20 years later), I definitely would’ve put my money on the Princess, not my sorry ass!”
The laughter was loud and real, and the message landed with impact: life’s unpredictable, and none of us knows exactly how long we have.
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