I had a strong bond with my uncle Leopold -- my mother's brother. He lived with us for most of my childhood and teenage years. He was quick witted and fun - but most of all, he was loving. He brought a lot of joy to my life.
In the late 80s, my uncle was diagnosed with full-blown AIDS. At that time, we didn't know much about AIDS. First my family learned of the diagnosis -- then one opportunistic infection after another hit him, each one taking a toll.
In a matter of months, my uncle went from being a physically fit, athletic man who cycled around Manhattan, to one who needed a cane, then a walker, then a wheelchair -- this downward spiral was rapid taking less than six months.
I went to stay with Leopold in his Westside apartment for a week shortly after the wheelchair arrived. Following is my attempt to explain how that visit opened my eyes to a form of discrimination most people -- myself included -- don't think about even when it is happening in plain sight.
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