the
author
Steve Perkins
For
a guy not exactly blessed genetically and raised humbly
and in a cloud of second-hand cigarette smoke, my dream of having
a muscular body seemed
impossible ... nothing more than a pipe dream.
At
age 50 a devastating HIV-related health crisis nearly clinched
the deal forever.
Indiana-born,
corn-fed and raised, schooled in everything but physical fitness
or nutrition,
the passion for bodybuilding
was
there all along; the body just got a late start. Weight-training
eventually became a potent career
tool, a motivating, life-sustaining, life-affirming force. I call weight
training, 'my visceral glue.'
In
the late 90s I stubbornly refused the new modality of
HIV treatments lacking confident in their efficacy, trying every
other
alternative
to no avail. Personal losses heaped upon professional misfortunes,
three eye surgeries, failing hearing, vertigo problems; my
usual keen rationality took a vacation. Then depression sank its
talons in
and took its toll. I'm not proud to admit it, but at one
point I really
just gave up.
*
1999: Convalescing, 135 pounds
A
buddy scooped me up partially-conscious, emaciated and dehydrated, on the brink, not
cognizant., non-conversant but cooperative, not that I remember any of it.
Two
hospitals and four months later, I began g-r-a-d-u-a-l-l-y to resurface. My mind was a such dense fog
with only
sound
bytes
and a few flash
frames
of where I'd
been and nothing to cement them together until I read my medical
records 6 months later. Medicinally, per my advance directives
I was put on an HIV
two-drug
protocol, Neuronton, et al, via California's MediCal
convalescent
care; they saved my butt!
Eating
was my favorite thing back then ... the only thing I was good for. I craved hot cereal and seconds
if I could get it. In between chatting
ineptly with
a few regular chums, someone always delivered medication
dosed in-person; nursing interns periodically
lifted me out my wheelchair to change my dirty diapers
and towel-bathe me. I was so out of it.
Things
progressed pedantically over five months' time. I learned new dimensions
of patience as I slowly regained more memory bytes. I hated all of it, where I'd wound up, but had no other choice.
I helped things along by asking for physical therapy, reading
everything in sight, helping other 'inmates', earning the staff's trust
so I could 'train' unattended in the PT room with the parallel bars and cable machine;
I did yoga wherever I could find carpeting. I insisted on regular
morning walks around the block (staff-attended,
per the rules) behind an up-graded walker and demonstrated
my progress shamelessly, blatantly in front of any staffer within
ear-shot.
Greasing the release-process wheels however I could, because it
was such a depressing place to be for any length of time, I
knew I needed out of there as soon as
humanly possible if I was going to have any chance of fully recuperating,
to get back into the real world and on with my new self.
If
I was aware of anything it was that I HAD been reincarnated
after all! I
was actually given
a second chance to start over from scratch. I got what I asked
for. The whole story, written in first-person, the real account of my sob
story and what I did to recover is entitled, "The Blotto Time."

Blotto
Time: Pleasant, but Confused
by Steve Perkins,
Certified Nutrition Consultant
PDF format

2001:
Colorado, 150 pounds
FLASHBACK: Idly
reading a bread wrapper, I wondered WHY the flour needed to be
refined and enriched? What were they doing to it in the first place?
That started a lifetime of head-scratching and questioning
food processing practices. Why did they blithely put chemicals
in everything? For over thirty-five years I unwittingly pioneered
the current smarter FDA-sanctioned food pyramid, always fine-tune
my eating and supplement regime week to week. Ultimately, I know
in my gut that tenacity saved me when all the chips were down.

2005:
age 59, 178 pounds
FLASHFORWARD: I owe my recovery to several factors: first and foremost, support (family and friends, even strangers when they heard my story), eating well before, during and after my trauma and being proactive in my healthcare throughout. Part of the latter came about serendipitously - I found a book called "Built to Survive" by Michael Mooney and Nelson Vergel, which delineated complimentary treatments for HIV/AIDS including judicious, monitored, prescribed use of anabolic steroids to prevent AIDS wasting, facial wasting as well as a lot of savvy nutritional advice. YES!
For decades I weighed 155 pounds - nothing I tried or did changed that by more than a few pounds one way or the other. I certainly wasn't able to lift heavy or begin to think of physique competing.
When I returned to California, setttled into the healthcare system and found the right doctor who was HIV-savvy, a bodybuilder himself and lo and behold, HIV-postiive too, I knew somehow all this was meant to transpire.
I asked specifically about low-dose anabolics, combined with the HIV medications du jour. Yes, they were part of my prescription plan too (MediCal, ADAP, Medicare). The right steroids, used properly, cycled, regularly monitored can be very helpful for some HIV-positive people. I am one of them and no regrets whatsoever.
Within a month of weekly injections of testosterone and deca nandrolone, I gained 15 pounds, mostly muscle. I trained harder and ate even smarter. What I saw in the mirror approved; I felt amazingly better, more vital, my self-esteem soared, my spirit rectified. I felt healthy and happy again. My HIV lab results confirmed that these often abused controlled substances were helping my general health and stability as well.
I continue the regimen, weigh generally 180, train a five-day routine (1-2 days rest). I still get told I look better than a lot of twenty-year-olds. That's scary, but of course, very flattering. I must be doing something right, huh?
___________
BOOK JACKET BLURB: From
an emaciated virus-ridden beanpole at death's door, I know now it was HIV-Related Dementia that nearly got me. You usually
don't recover from that. It took five years of focus, resolve, big
attitude shifts, hard work and lots of patience and diplomacy, but I willed myself stronger,
more vital and more muscular. If I am a medical-miracle personage, I hope
at the very least that Itestify
to self-advocacy and aggressive proactive nutrition. I just want
to share my zeal with the world.
There is hope
IF you fuel right!
–Steve Perkins
Certified Nutrition Consultant
PHYSIQUE
- CONTEST PHOTOS
