Remember Jelly Bellies, those little jellybeans that came in a million ridiculous flavours? Not just licorice, peach and popcorn, but coriander, toast and tamarillo?
Anyway, these bold and creative Jelly Belly people (the Pixar of confectionery) provided a form guide that illustrated the unique delights of each taste sensation. The risk was that you’d bite down on what you thought was pistachio and end up with a tiny, debilitating burst of wasabi.
I’d forgotten about this until my doctor recently handed me a similar colour chart displaying the impressive array of HIV-combative medication available today, complete with boxes in which you could annotate the amount of times a day you had to stomach them -“ somehow.
My T-cells, you see, have dwindled to the point where I can name them individually with no more difficulty than your average Catholic parent. Thirty-eight was the last count and while I’m toying with the idea of embroidering their names on my used underwear, Tracey Emin-style, I listened to my doctor and opted (after weighing up the pretty pills against the ones that might actually prolong my life) for the Kaletra/3TC Unhappy Meal.
This was two weeks ago. I still feel like shit.
Excuse my language, but I fucking hate Kaletra. When I first heard the name, she sounded like a supermodel plucked from a trouble spot; pouting, screaming, then languishing in couture so she could send money home to feed her village. You know, difficult but worthy.
It took approximately four hours for her to give me the shits. Literally, violently, publicly -“ in the middle of the CBD. The headache and nausea chimed in soon after; the weird metallic taste in my mouth took a couple of days before it realised there was a party going on that it just couldn’t bear to miss.
I apologise for inserting the subject of HIV -“ dated and exhausted as it is, practically panting for a new PR hook -“ into anyone’s hectic pursuit of marriage recognition. It’s just that I have never, ever, felt more sickened by something I didn’t personally cause in a drunken state.
Was that an overshare?