Tommy Bothwell discusses his road to recovery

Edward Moncrief 4:49 p.m. PST February 26, 2016

TommuBothwell_June_2016Tommy Bothwell smiles as he celebrates seven months of being drug-free (Photo: Edward Moncrief/For The Salinas Californian)

Tommy Bothwell is a big man at 6 feet, 5 inches. His black dreadlocks tumbled down onto a red T-shirt. They framed the printed message: “Start with nothing. Finish with victory.” Even before we shook hands and introduced ourselves, his eyes were ready to make a new friend.

“I tell everyone who cares to know, I’ve got AIDS,” Bothwell said. “I’ve had it for 26 years. I’m a long-time survivor. I’m not gay and I’ve never used needles to do drugs; but still, I do have it. I’ve come up with two theories about how; maybe from some girl when I was in Korea in the Army or maybe from this other woman here. She and I used to hustle together.”

Bothwell started using drugs when he got out of the Army. He was in rehab in the VA Hospital in Menlo Park back in ’89.

“One day they came in and told me that I was HIV positive. I was ashamed and angry,” he said. “It took me seven years to get past the stigma and admit it openly to my friends.

“After diagnosis, I didn’t know how to relate. Back then, you basically thought that it was over; you’re going to die real soon. There ain’t no cure. You’re overwhelmed. The stigma’s the hardest part, the labels. There are haters out there who need to put someone down to build themselves up,” he said. “You feel outraged. You feel like you’re a leper. People with AIDS can be very vulnerable. I had a person invite me to dinner, and then he fed me on a paper plate.”

Bothwell left the VA rehab program and turned back to drugs, taking them and dealing them.

“I rejoined the ‘Coo-Coo for Coco Club.’ I started living on the street. I was beating myself up pretty bad. I got busted over and over; 3- and 4-year terms.”

He is eager to tell his story; to share what he’s learned through a life filled with disease, pain, and destitution.

“I was in and out of nine different prisons over the course of those 20 years. I’d get out and be [arrested] for possession and get sent back; Avenal, Folsom, New Folsom, Vacaville, Mule Creek, Susanville, Delano, Lancaster, San Quentin. Prison’s a great education though.”

“Let’s back up, Tommy,” I said. “Are you from Salinas?”

“No, no. I came to California after high school. I was recruited by Hartnell to play basketball. I was ranked 17th in the state among junior college players. I averaged 13 points, 13 rebounds, and 7 blocks,” he said and smiled proudly. “My mama was still back in North Carolina. I was slated to go to the 1983 Pan American Games, but then she got cancer. Instead, I went into the Army so I could make sure she had what

“I tell everyone who cares to know, I’ve got AIDS,” Bothwell said. “I’ve had it for 26 years. I’m a long-time survivor. I’m not gay and I’ve never used needles to do drugs; but still, I do have it. I’ve come up with two theories about how; maybe from some girl when I was in Korea in the Army or maybe from this other woman here. She and I used to hustle together.”

Bothwell talked more about his mother; how she fought the cancer for 10 years.

“In the Army, I worked in tech supply in Korea, which meant I did a lot of heavy lifting; so now all these years later, I’m on disability from the VA because I have neuropathy,” he said. “I’m in a lot of pain in my lower back and down to my feet. It’s got nothing to do with my AIDS.”

Some people, when they discover that they have AIDS, they don’t know what to do. They’re often in denial. They don’t want to think about it. They also don’t know where to get help. Maybe, like Bothwell, they have other health problems and are too weak to work and are depressed. They don’t know about insurance coverage. Maybe their friends don’t want to be with them anymore.

“That’s why I want to share my story,” Bothwell said, “I’m hoping that I can give back in some way. I know how important it is to have people you can turn to. As I said, when it happened to me, I turned to drugs. I had to learn the hard way. That was no answer.

“Most addicts are running from pain of one kind or another. When I was using, I jumped in all the way; started living on the street. I got me a tent, a sleeping bag, a lantern. I used to say, I’m lucky, here I am, sleepin’ under a million dollar bridge!” he said. “That lifestyle, on drugs and dealin’, it’s not for everyone. I did it over a 20-year period; but I had my rules; no dealing to kids and no proselytizing. I had respect because I gave it. My other rule was: ‘Don’t make enemies, make allies.’

“I used to sit out there in front of Nob Hill with Corona and Nina, my two dogs and my sign, ‘Homeless Vet. Please Help. God Bless. Thank you.’ I never used the money those good people gave me to buy drugs. Basically, I sold drugs because it meant that I got mine free. I’d buy for a hundred and sell for three hundred; that way I was makin’ money and payin’ for my own besides.

“I’ve been through a lot because of AIDS. It changed my whole life. I’m 54 now. It’s hard to have a relationship with a woman. Most aren’t ready to take the chance. Way back, I had twins but they died. One girl had an abortion; that haunts me,” he said.

“I thought a lot about what I was doing when I was on the street. I’d say to myself, I would just like to be a responsible person with a home and a family. That would be a gift from God … maybe someday.”

Tommy Bothwell took a bite from the corndog he’d brought with him. He waited for the question he could see coming.

“Are you drug free now?” I asked.

“Yeah, I’ve been clean for the past seven months. I started going to counseling about seven years ago. Daniela was my counselor over at the Monterey County AIDS Project. She loves to help anyone who wants to help himself. When they closed down that organization, I followed her to

AIDS Support Network (ASN). Daniela and me, we’ve become good friends over the years. Now, she’s moved up in the organization, so I have a new counselor, Paris. Everyone at ASN makes you feel like you matter. I was lucky to find that place. But you know, counseling only makes a difference when you’re finally ready to change.”

After Tommy and I parted, I spoke to David Kilburn, executive director of ASN and Elena Ramirez, client services manager. The organization was founded in San Luis Obispo in 1984. It opened its offices in Monterey County in July of 2015. It’s the only local non-profit that serves the health and day-to-day living needs of both AIDS and Hepatitis-C patients.

Kilburn, himself HIV positive, spends two days a week in the Salinas office. He and Ramirez travel from the main office in San Luis Obispo to supervise ASN ’s benefits counselors and community volunteers.

“We’ve been here for only seven months and we’ve already seen some 150 Monterey County clients,” Kilburn said. “Perhaps one of our most important resources is emergency rent vouchers and other housing assistance.”

“Housing is connected to health in so many ways,” Ramirez said. “If you have a safe and stable place to live, you’re more likely to take your daily medication, eat regularly, regain the loss of weight and muscle strength, access other needed social services, receive job training; perhaps, return to work. You’re also more likely to have friends and neighbors who can be supportive.

“We offer a wide variety of services such as HIV and Hep-C testing, linkages to insurance and public benefits programs, and various kinds of financial assistance. We administer the ‘AIDS Drug Assistance Program’ that pays for HIV drugs. We help access local public transportation with vouchers. We’ve even work with the Mexican Consulate to address immigration issues.”

Kilburn picked up the conversation.

“Many people don’t realize that the new medicines can give people living with AIDS new hope to live long and fulfilling lives. New medications can clear the Hepatitis-C virus in as few as 12 weeks. We educate both the public and individual patients. We help new patients understand the importance of taking their medication daily without fail, and we support them if something is standing in the way.”

I met with Tommy Bothwell second time. He wanted to talk about what’s changed in his life.

“I was raised in the projects in North Carolina,” Bothwell said. “But, you know what, I’ve lived in barracks, RVs, trailers, tents, campers, you name it. Now, finally, I got a house. There’s this other organization, Building Bridges. Christopher Gaskins is the founder. He has helped me so much. He had this place available, so he said, ‘No drugs and I’ll let you stay there.’ That was a major turning point for me. I finally had a chance to get out of the lifestyle I had been in for 20 years. As I said before, I’ve been clean for seven months now.

“You got to recognize a blessing when it comes. The house is a blessing. It and ASN have helped me to turn my life around. Now, I just want to be a responsible person. I want to take what I’ve learned and teach others. If you have knowledge that makes you successful, you’ve got to pass it on,” he said. “I’m looking for ways to do that; take what I know and help others who are still in addiction or who are HIV positive and haven’t really faced that — admitted it to themselves or to others. Through my touch with death, I feel like I’ve found life. The truth is that my whole life was changed by this disease. I got to figure out what to do with the experience.

“I wrote a play for kids to try to teach them what I know; help them to avoid the mistakes I made. Maybe I can find a way to take that to the schools. I sometimes wonder if maybe I can be part of the research they’re doing on the disease. Plus, I still have friends who are addicted. I’m trying to reach back and help them. I’ve made my house a safe haven for some when they needed it,” he said.

“I’m still looking for where I go next, but I know this; I want to be where I feel respected. When I got something I need to talk about, I see Paris at ASN. He’s always there for me.

“People ask: Why are you smiling? You’re gonna die. I tell them, ‘Look, when I get up in the morning, I love the person I see in the mirror.’ I thank God for the life I have. I don’t have resentments. I’m not angry anymore. I’ve changed. You know what? Every day you’re above ground is a good day; still, if I were to die right now, I’d die happy because I’ve finally started living happy.”

When Tommy said that last line, I closed my notebook. We hugged and said goodbye; but I had the feeling that we are all going to hear more from Tommy Bothwell.