Really feel bad....

[Rockman]

for Carl Stone and even worse for his wife.
Two things I find troubling; Statistics had no influence ...,strange given his area of expertise,and why the 360 regarding keeping it a secret.
Nevertheless, it is a wake up call, not only to men but women too.

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Carl is going to die soon... and Rosie gets AIDS too
'...Oh my God, what have I done, what have I done?'

Sunday, April 15, 2007

Most Jamaicans know and will remember Carl Stone as a master of public opinion surveys, better known as the Stone Polls. What many will not know is that this brilliant and revered university professor also existed in the shadows of the night; roaming through a world of bars and exotic clubs, until he met his untimely end, wasted by one of mankind's deadliest enemies, Acquired Immune Deficiency Syndrome - AIDS.
It was never determined how he contracted the disease, although suspicions abound. But Rosemarie Stone, the beautiful Jamaican woman who loved Carl Stone through the pain and agony, suffered the trauma of watching as the disease ravaged and tortured the body and soul of her beloved husband... awaiting the inevitable but cruel news that she too would contract the evil virus.
Rosie Stone.I closed all the windows and wept. When Carl returned, the windows were foggy, I was overcome. My face felt swollen, my throat ached, my stomach had become a cavern - hollow and echoing, and my limbs felt strange - borrowed, but not the right fit. In her forthcoming book, No Stone Unturned, Rosie Stone tells a gripping, mind-bending tale of love, courage, forgiveness and sorrow - a sorrow that no woman should have to bear. Today, the Sunday Observer brings you the final of three excerpts of this shocking, yet revealing book, soon to be released by Ian Randle Publishers.
As I continued along Ripon Road en route to Lady Musgrave Avenue where Carl wanted to stop to cancel an appointment he had, I knew in my heart that Carl was going to die soon. All the indicators and tests, what I saw when I looked at him, what I was hearing from the doctors, all shared the undercurrent of very bad news for Carl.
I hoped I was mistaken and that something would happen to make the feeling of doom go away. As I parked the car on Lady Musgrave Avenue and Carl got out, I watched him walk away from me. I tried to turn my thoughts around and see optimism and hope, but these thoughts were short lived and futile.
I closed all the windows and wept. When Carl returned, the windows were foggy, I was overcome. My face felt swollen, my throat ached, my stomach had become a cavern - hollow and echoing, and my limbs felt strange - borrowed, but not the right fit. Carl opened the car door and held out his arms saying, 'Rose you have to stop crying like this, we are going to get through this, hundreds of people all over the world face similar situations.'
He hugged me and I hugged him back with all the strength I could muster.
The hug did nothing to ease my pessimistic thoughts. We got out of the car and Carl held my hand as we walked a few yards to where a coconut vendor was stationed.
'Two sir? Yu want dem cold?'
'One cold, and three others to take home,' Carl said.
I looked at him quizzically.
'We will share yours, you usually can't drink one by yourself. I will take mine home and two for the children.'
I drank the coconut water slowly as my throat ached. We walked back to the car and then drove to collect the three coconuts. The vendor gave me the coconut that Carl and I shared, as he had cut it open for me to eat the jelly. I was trying to enjoy the jelly, but halfway through the tears started again. 'Rose...'
'Don't say anything, I am doing better, I am both eating and crying.'
I tried to smile through my tears.
Wednesday, January 22, 1992, I called Dr Grace and she told me it was not myeloma. But she wanted Carl to visit Dr Charles, an ear, nose and throat specialist. Through friends of mine I was able to make contact with Dr Charles that very evening at his home and secure an appointment for early the next morning.
Thursday, January 23, 1992, Dr Charles greeted us, looked down on his files and said to my husband, 'Carl, on your last visit you were supposed to do some blood tests, but I do not have the results here, so you remember anything about that?'
'I am not absolutely sure, but I feel I must have done those tests.'
'Dr Charles, I think I remember Carl telling me he did these tests.'
Dr Charles spoke to his nurse, and the search began for the missing test results. In the meantime, Dr Charles examined Carl. He looked at his mouth, his ears, his nose and his eyes.
'Carl, how are you feeling now?'
'Much better than how I felt two weeks ago Doc, but I am a bit anxious about the diagnosis. It seems we are having some difficulty in getting to the root of my problem.'
'Carl, can you remember the last period of time that you felt very well?'
'I don't know how to answer that Doc, because I run at least three miles every morning, I play tennis every week and I exercise at least three times a week. I have had no difficulty in my lectures, either preparing them or delivering them and I have been doing a lot of my own personal research lately on a book that I should have begun by now. It is usually on my down time that I get the tonsillitis and the fever. That's what prompted Rose to force me to come to you the last time.'
Dr Charles had been looking intently at Carl as he answered the questions. Then he asked, 'In the last year, that is 1991, can you remember how many times your tonsils got inflamed and you got a fever?'
Carl glanced at me for help but I did not respond because I had an unsettling feeling. I felt uncomfortable and I really believed that Carl should try to answer.
He responded, 'Usually when the weather changes a little bit, so probably about three times last year.'
Dr Charles got up from his seat, moved behind Carl and examined his whole neck region again, all the time looking at Carl from different angles. The nurse knocked on the door and told Dr Charles that there are no test results. Dr Charles went back to his desk and flipped through his notes on Carl thoughtfully, then he looked up.
'Carl, actually those test results are not that necessary now, because Dr Grace must have done some new blood tests. But what I want you to do now, is an AIDS test so that we can rule out HIV as a possibility, and then we can go on from there. Do you know Dr Barry up at the University Hospital? I am going to call him now and arrange for you to see him, and he will do the tests. They have a good system at the university that you can go privately and do the test anonymously. You do not have to worry; Dr Barry will look after you well.'
I knew now why I had been feeling as if something life changing was about to take place. The moment Dr Charles said the word AIDS, a chill ran through my body and I realised that he had been considering that diagnosis all the time that we were in that office.
Immediately my mind recalled a conversation with Carl, Lisa and myself in which she posed the question to Carl: 'Carl, Rose is always accusing you of infidelity. Can you imagine if you slept with all the women that she has these feelings about? Boy!'
He replied, 'Rose is allowing her imagination to get the better of her. She is being paranoid. I have so much work to do, where would I find time for all of these women?'
As images of that conversation flashed through my mind, I wished for the closeness that Lisa and I once shared because she would understand that my 'imagination' and 'paranoia' have now become my reality.
As we left the office and headed to the car, Carl held on to my hand. Both of us were silent and trembling as we crossed over Tangerine Place.

[Rockman]

As we left the office and headed to the car, Carl held on to my hand. Both of us were silent and trembling as we crossed over Tangerine Place.
A few minutes later, in the car, I turned the ignition on and then off. I looked at Carl and asked, 'Is there any likelihood that this test could be positive?'
'Rose let's not make mountains out of molehills right now, let's wait until the test is done. Didn't you hear him say it's just to rule it out?'
'Carl you are an intelligent man, I am an intelligent woman. We have been married for 17 years and so I am asking the question again. Is there any way that this test can be positive?'
'I don't know anybody with AIDS. I have done all sorts of tests and they were OK.'
'Carl, all sorts of tests? Did you do an AIDS test?' 'No. I really don't think we should be upset by this.'
'Did you see how Dr Charles was looking at you?'
'What do you mean?'
'He looked very carefully at you Carl, and I believe he made a clinical diagnosis just now.'
We were quiet for a moment as Carl digested what I had said.
'I am going to ask you for the third time, is there the remotest possibility that this test can be positive?'
'I don't know Rose, I don't know.'
'OK, I will translate that. It means that the test might be positive. We have to proceed on this assumption, and that means that we are not going to tell anyone about the visit to Dr Barry that we are about to embark on. If anyone asks about our day today, it ended after we left Dr Charles' office. Are we agreed?'
'I suppose so.'
I knew that Carl thought it was too early to discuss these practicalities, but I felt the need in every cell of my body, to ensure that we covered up the situation - that we protected ourselves. Submerged below these practicalities were all sorts of feelings that I could not allow to come to the surface at this time. If I so much as loosened, a little, the hold I had on myself, a sea of emotions would overtake me. I stared straight ahead, not daring to blink.
Our drive to Dr Barry's office at the University Hospital was done in silence, both of us immersed in our own thoughts. After we parked and got out of the car, Carl automatically held on to my hand. I was trying hard to present an appearance of normality and not let the people we passed on our way in get even a glimpse of what I was feeling inside.
...Later that evening as I was in the bedroom, the telephone rang and I answered. The female caller asked to speak to Professor Stone. The voice was familiar but unrecognisable. Carl took the call downstairs and, a few minutes later, came upstairs to me looking troubled.
He told me the caller had been Dr Grace, and she had asked him to come to her office by himself in the morning.
'Why would she say this Rose? Isn't that a little unusual? We have been everywhere together and I think she knows that I don't want to hide anything from you. Why would she do this Rose?'
'I don't know Carl.' He sat on the bed, touched my shoulder and said, 'Do you think it's that thing?'
'What thing?'
'That thing, you know what I mean.'
He got up and started to pace the room mumbling to himself, 'I can't believe this, I can't believe this. This could not be happening.'
He addressed me again, 'What am I to do Rose?'
'You certainly have to do something because you can't remain in a state like this all night. You are like a caged bird; this is not good for you. Come and sit beside me, come and sit beside me.'
'Rose, I can't wait until tomorrow.'
'You could probably look her up in the directory. She should have a home number. So call her and talk to her.'
He reached for the directory, flipped through some pages and called Dr Grace's home number. We were sitting side by side on the bed as he talked to her. I had my arm around his waist when he said, 'I am a bit worried. Why do you want to see me alone tomorrow?'
There was so much anguish in his voice.
He then said, 'I know you are not supposed to give out that kind of information but I can't wait until tomorrow. I have to know tonight. Please Dr Grace, you have to tell me. Is it that thing? Is it AIDS?'
Then Carl let out the loudest scream I have ever heard. 'Oh my God, oh my God, you mean I am not going to live to see my children grow up. Oh Tricia, oh Timothy, what have I done, what have I done?'
Tears streamed down my face as I grabbed Carl around his neck to restrain him and keep him on the bed beside me. While taking the phone from him to talk to Dr Grace, I heard her say:
'I am so sorry Professor, I am very, very sorry.'
Carl was sobbing in my arms as I listened to her explain how she had arrived at this diagnosis. I told her that we were going to receive at least 20 calls from abroad and numerous local calls because I had told everybody that we would get a diagnosis that day. I also told her that we were not ready to tell the world that Carl had AIDS, so she had to help me by coming up with a plausible alternative diagnosis. She did: cancer of the lymphatic system.
She further told me that she had to refer Carl to another doctor whose area of expertise was AIDS. I begged her not to. I pleaded with her to treat Carl and use the doctor as a consultant.
After much crying and pleading from me she agreed to keep Carl on as a patient. That night turned out to be the darkest of my life.
The 'cover up mode' began in earnest as we deceived friends and family about the diagnosis.
Fraudulent and cowardly are two words that echoed in my mind. But I knew that I had to be those things that night. I called my sister Andrea and my friend Norma and told them that Carl had cancer of the lymphatic system. I asked Andrea to inform the rest of the family and Norma to call our friends.
...The following Friday, Carl and I walked into Dr Grace's office and she told me immediately, 'I am sorry Mrs Stone, your tests are positive.'
A shiver ran through my whole body and tears began to stream down my face. Carl bent his head to his knees and I heard him sobbing.
Dr Grace talked to us as she usually did, in soft comforting tones. She tried to reassure us that she would do her best to ensure that we got all the benefit of her expertise together with what medicine had to offer. I tried to stop the flow of my tears but there seemed no end to them. At the very least, I had to stem the tears so that I could think clearly.
Carl, through his indiscretions, had brought me into this new family of people infected with and living with HIV/AIDS. I had to protect Tricia and Timothy from what Carl was feeling at that moment. He was guilt ridden and could only think that he did not deserve to live, especially because he had infected me.
I had to suspend all my confused feelings over being infected by Carl for a while, at least until he achieved some perspective that he could live with. I had to believe that I could use the love that he had for the children to counterbalance his self-destructive thoughts.