Graveyard shift

Two men with HIV haunt one of our local grave-yards.

OK. We don't have many grave-yards. This is really a crematorium. And the men are not 'haunting' it as phantoms of any sort.

We know both of them.

One of the men - we will call him Manoj - works at the crematorium. For a man whose body is being stripped of its immunity it must a nasty reminder to see the dead come and be burned.

Writing about a plague epidemic in which he himself was burning with fever, John Donne heard the bells announcing another death - and realised that it could very well be his own. Having survived he penned these immortal lines: Any man's death diminishes me, because I am involved in mankind; and therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls; it tolls for thee.

The other man. We will call him Tarun.

He is fed up with life. He is tired of HIV.

He hangs around the crematorium to get away from it all.

Manoj and Tarun know each other and have tried to drink their sorrows away.

Manoj has stopped his ART and TB medications. He had been stabilised at a hospice in Panchgani, and started on these medications, but found them too hard to take.

Manoj came to the clinic today with his wife. He was sick. Sheba diagnosed a pneumonia. We prescribed the necessary antibiotics and hope to see them back on Monday.

We had heard that the two men had given up and had decided to drink themselves to death. Booze may be poison - but it doesn't always work. In the detritus of their lives these two men are still alive. Our staff team had met Manoj recently, and he had prayed a simple prayer.

We remain in active hope for Tarun as well. Trying to encourage him. Its not easy. There are no magic buttons to push. But lots and lots of opportunities to cry out to God.

There is hope as long as people have breath.

Even if they work in a crematorium. Or hang around one.