Hepatitis C Advisory--August 11, 1998

By: SSG George "Sonny" Hoffman (Ret)

If you consider AIDS to be a homosexual's disease, then Hepatitis-C is a veteran's disease. We vets brought it home, and we vets have the lion's share. In this era of medical attention by squeal, we veterans need to begin squealing like a bunch of homosexuals with our tits caught in wringers. If Hep-C had one tenth the funds allocated to AIDS research and treatment, we wouldn't be planting so many brothers. When the vets find out they haven't finished dying from their wounds, and when the five million Americans who now carry the HCV virus find out they are being eaten alive, the squeals will rattle the rafters of Capitol Hill.

One might wonder why more attention hasn't been drawn to this insidious killer that takes its sweet time eating liver without onions. I believe part of the answer lies in the fact that doctors can't do much, many don't know much, and some hate putting rare livers in patients who still carry little liver eaters. That, and promising therapies are just around the corner, always, so why upset a slew of folks who will probably live many years in blissful ignorance, anyway. Whatever the reason, Hep-C is the red-headed stepchild of terminal diseases.

Hep-C isn't a household word is that a Hep-C diagnosis carries no great urgency. For most who test positive, the doc says, "Well, you tested positive for the HCV antibodies. You have twenty, thirty, possibly forty years to live. Go home and give me a call when you feel really bad for a really long time."

The Vietnam Vet who picked up the virus from tainted blood while taking a chopper ride--or from contaminated needles during those wacky, weird, and wild Post Vietnam Syndrome years--doesn't have much liver to live on. I have one regret: that I didn't find out sooner and start fighting intelligently sooner. My regrets would border on rage had I passed these VC critters to my spouse through sexual contact, or to my daughter because she used my razor to shave her legs, or grabbed my toothbrush by mistake, or got bit because she tried to snatch a twinkie off my plate.

Every red-blooded American should be tested, certainly every veteran, absolutely every Vietnam Vet, and those with PTSD should be held down and tested. The more vets who test positive, the sooner the VA will do something positive. Pass my Hep-C advisories along. See that they get posted to your favorite newsgroup, vet newsletter, vet service center bulletin board, and local Greyhound Bus station. Don't do this to save my ate-up, non-commissioned, tired and retired behind. Do it for the brothers who live fat, dumb, and happy in blissful ignorance. Do it for their horny wives and dumb kids. After you mark the trail, go get tested.

The easiest way to get tested for HCV, HIV, and a host of other uninvited guests is to donate blood. Don't bother your family doc. Don't wait for the VA to see you. Don't ask your HMO if you should receive an unnecessary test; just go down to your neighborhood blood bank and do a good deed. Meet a sweet person who will prick you and give you free orange juice. Give your real name and number. If you're screwed, you'll get a call. You be the one to tell your doctor, the VA appointment mangler, or HMO healthcare denier, then squeal like a homosexual with his nipple ring caught in a taffy pulling machine.

Ring the bell then run like hell! Just kidding. There's plenty of time--for running.

More info:

HTTP://www.curmudgeon.org/sonny

Sonny@Telis.Org