"People are scared", says Carl.
"It's not, as some fearmongers have claimed, an existential threat. When I was fifteen, back in 1990 when Kenny came back to live with us, I was already joining him as he visited friends of his who were dying in hospital. What an eye-opener that was. I remember the first time I saw someone with advanced kaposi's sarcoma. His face was swollen to twice its normal size and he was covered in purple lesions. They managed to knock him out with morphine, and it was just after our visit, perhaps a few minutes, when he passed away. And there were others. We were living in perpetual bereavement, because Kenny was family to us, and by extension, his street brothers and sisters became our own. I don't wish to denigrate what is happening to your mother, but people have a very short memory about this, especially since it mostly affected people that society tends to despise and marginalize.
"Point taken", says Carl, as we turn down the street where I live. "Did these experiences help you decide to go into nursing?"
"Without question..." and now we are pulling into the driveway....
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