Thursday, Sept. 16, 2004 | 8:13 a.m.
Lane Olson and his friends were lounging around a coffeehouse one day when they spotted a magazine ad for anonymous HIV testing. Someone in the group suggested, even "dared," that they all get tested.
"I didn't think I had anything to worry about," Olson said. "I didn't identify with HIV people.
"The time it hit me was when we went back to the waiting room to get results (two weeks later) and they called everybody's numbers. They were going in and out, in and out. Everybody was coming out negative. I kind of knew something was up."
That was 16 years ago. Olson was 24 at the time and an assistant manager in the finance department at the MGM Grand who moved to Las Vegas after his parents retired here. AIDS was making headlines and AFAN (Aid For AIDS of Nevada) was in its fourth year.
"AFAN was how I found out I was positive," Olson said. "It actually turned me numb. I didn't know what I was feeling. I couldn't think. I couldn't feel. It was three months before I told my parents, and two months later we told my family, at Christmas."
Of AFAN, Olson said, "It's definitely been a part of my life since HIV. It's impossible for them to meet all my needs, but they're reliable. They've been there year after year after year."
AFAN is 20 this year. It is the oldest and largest HIV/AIDS nonprofit organization in Southern Nevada.
With 1,500 clients in its system, 800 are assisted regularly. They receive financial planning, referrals for legal services, information on support groups, creative outlets and transportation and housing assistance.
AFAN's food program provides a bag of groceries each week, hot lunches and a meals-on-wheels service to those in need.
Its educational prevention program sends speakers into the community and a licensed nutritionist oversees food and nutritional supplements for roughly 80 clients a month.
"I tell my patients what to choose and how much to eat, how to deal with symptoms," nutritionist Tahmineh Ronagh said. "If they don't follow nutritional information, it eventually affects their adherence to medications.
"I worked with HIV when I was at University Medical Center for seven years," she said. "I had a dietician die from HIV. She died in front of our eyes. So it was very personal."
Black and white
With an annual budget of $1.4 million, 70 percent of AFAN's funding comes from grants, including the Ryan White Title 1 Grant. The rest is from private donations and two annual fund-raisers: the annual AIDS walk and the Black and White Party, held this weekend at the Skin Pool Lounge at the Palms.
The party with the simple black-and-white dress code (guests are asked to wear only black or white evening wear or costumes) draws as many as 2,000 guests, an increase from its start as a backyard gathering and canned-food drive by AFAN board members.
Caroline Ciocca, AFAN's executive director, is trying to generate more funding from the Black and White Party. Ninety percent of the party's cost this year was donated.
Restaurants PF Chang's China Bistro, Giovanni's Pizzeria and Sammy's Woodfired Pizza are participating. Starbucks, Trader Joe's and MGM MIRAGE are sponsoring cabanas. There will be strolling entertainers. Outlandish costumes are anticipated.
"It's a great cause," Ciocca said. "It's a great community event."
Ciocca first came to AFAN while on assignment with Leadership Las Vegas, a Las Vegas Chamber of Commerce program that each month sends volunteers to local organizations.
To better understand AFAN, Ciocca was asked to role-play with a staff member and was given a scenario in which she was a 34-year-old HIV-infected male who just moved to Las Vegas, was recently diagnosed with HIV, was living with a friend and receiving a $500 monthly Social Security check.
"I remember I kept saying, 'How am I going to live off $500?' " Ciocca said. "I couldn't get over that. I was literally in tears just thinking that scenario was real in somebody's life."
The scenario is lived out daily at the second-floor office on Rancho Drive.
"The client is typically living below poverty level," Ciocca said. "Someone who needs help with housing and transportation -- getting a bus pass means the world to them.
"When you lose your job and you lose your health insurance and you don't have a family to take care of you, what would you do? Social Security is, what, $500 a month? We pull in all the pieces to make a complete life for them."
Medication myths
Patients come and go along with their symptoms. A client could need help for a few months, then not return for years.
It was six years after diagnosis that Olson would show symptoms. When he did, he was hospitalized with Pneumocystis Pneumonia.
Two years later he was in the hospital for three months and went to AFAN for emergency money to help pay his rent prior to moving in with his parents. He utilized the food pantry at AFAN and received referrals for legal services when he ran into trouble applying for time off from work.
Soon after, Olson started volunteering for AFAN. He now works part time as an assistant Project Upfront coordinator for AFAN (when he's not at his other part-time job working as a barista at Starbucks) and is one of 22 speakers who talk to groups about life before, during and after diagnosis, addresses prevention and helps dispel the myth that medication makes HIV and AIDS less threatening.
With medications, Olson said, "There's a difference, but it's not all good. When I was first diagnosed, I didn't know how long I had to live. Now, with the medication, I know I have more time. But in that time, am I going to find somebody to have a relationship with?"
Also, he said, "It's not fun to go to the movies and (expletive) your pants and excuse yourself and walk in front of your friends with diarrhea running down your leg, or being so tired that you don't have the mobility. I've dealt with rashes, diarrhea, not being able to eat because I'm so nauseous, or so fatigued where I can't get out of bed."
Speaking up
Speakers talk to high-risk youth, nurses, doctors and others in the medical profession and college programs.
Clark County School District does not allow AFAN to educate students in its schools without permission from principals, who must present the request to the school board. For the most part, AFAN targets high-risk youth and talks to them at detox units, shelters, drop-in centers, after-school programs, teen centers and at colleges.
"We try to bring it into their world," said Jennifer Roberts, director of programs for AFAN. "We ask, 'What happens if you have diarrhea on the basketball court?' They get red faced, embarrassed.
"The medications, they take a toll on your body. The regimens, the side effects, the expense, the emotional or physical toll. The average dosage is 22 pills a day. Sometimes it's a mental battle. HIV has no symptoms. That's all from the medication. It becomes a question of ... do I want to live with diarrhea and vomiting or loss of appetite?"
For some patients, medicine isn't even an option.
"Not every person can take them because of the side effects," said Cherie Filler-Maietta, HIV prevention information specialist with the Clark County Health District office of AIDS.
Prevention, Filler-Maietta said, is the key.
Clark County Health District reports that since 1992 (when it began reporting HIV/AIDS statistics) there have been 2,869 HIV infections. The total number of AIDS cases is 4,346.
In addition to AFAN, Clark County Coalition of AIDS/HIV has 35 member groups working with the community. But AFAN is the most established.
"We utilize them quite a bit with our training," Filler-Maietta said. "We have a monthly HIV prevention community training that we do. And that's just one of the educational opportunities we work with them on. They go out with us for HIV education. We get a lot of requests from agencies, schools, organizations, churches for HIV 101.
"Lately, we've seen an increase in different businesses wanting to educate their employees, which is good."
Olson said that when he was infected he wasn't educated. He didn't realize HIV infection was about high-risk behavior, be it gay or straight sex or using drugs.
"I didn't identify with HIV people," Olson said. "Back then I would not say I was gay. I had girlfriends. I had a girlfriend before I moved out here. I maybe had one or two encounters (with men)."
When he went to receive his diagnosis, the woman who was informing those tested started crying and couldn't finish telling Olson he was positive.
"Another doctor came in, pushed the results on the desk and said, 'I'm sorry. You're positive,' " Olson said. "In 1988, when you got that notice, it was a death sentence. It was pretty hard.
"I didn't think I'd make it to 30. When I hit 30, I was amazed. When I hit 40, I was dumbfounded. I'm feeling good and grateful for all the time I have."
With AFAN, Olson said, "It's always reassuring to know they're there."
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