by LaMont Jones
Pittsburgh Post-Gazette
June 4, 1998

"Rent" is a powerful Broadway drama about the lives and loves of people with HIV or AIDS.

A portion of proceeds from today's 8 p.m. performance at Heinz Hall will benefit a real place in Pittsburgh where people with acquired immune deficiency syndrome - or the human immunodeficiency virus that causes it - receive support and hope in a loving environment.

It's the Corpus Christi Residence in Lincoln- Lemington, the only assisted-living facility of its kind in Southwestern Pennsylvania. It is funded by a hodgepodge of sources, including foundations, private individuals, state and federal grants and Presbyterian Senior Care, which manages the site. All residents have AIDS or some other chronic illness and pay a small amount that varies based on their ability to pay.

Kirk Francis, a three-time resident and one of 13 now living at Corpus Christi, plans to be in the audience this evening. Some of the events in the play may strike a familiar chord with the 27-year-old AIDS patient, who has read a lot about the play.

"I think it's gonna be wonderful," he says.

Francis grew up in rural Elwood City and attended Riverside High School in Beaver County, where he was a 225-pound middle linebacker on the football team.

In 1990, Francis visited a doctor and was asked to take an AIDS test. Two days later, the 20-year-old learned that he had full-blown AIDS. His diagnosis was pneumocystis pneumonia, which usually strikes chemotherapy patients and older adults with weakened immune systems.

Francis says he contracted HIV through sexual contact with a male lover who is now fighting AIDS as well.

Immediately, Francis began to learn as much as he could about his condition.

"I figured, 'I still got a lotta life in me and I can live a lot longer,' " he said.

The same year - before he learned he had AIDS, he helped found Growing Alternative Youth, an organization for gay young people in Pittsburgh. He recently joined the Southwestern Pennsylvania AIDS Planning Coalition, through which he plans to visit prisons and speak about HIV and AIDS. He also wants to volunteer at the next annual AIDS Walk and join the Pittsburgh AIDS Task Force speakers bureau.

"Busy life," he comments. "But I think that's what keeps me alive."

After learning he had AIDS, Francis tried to live as normal a life as possible. He did roofing work in Southern California for two years and worked as a bartender back in Pittsburgh.

"Busy life," he comments. "But I think that's what keeps me alive."

After learning he had AIDS, Francis tried to live as normal a life as possible. He did roofing work in Southern California for two years and worked as a bartender back in Pittsburgh.

But sickness dogged him. On March 1, 1996, he entered Corpus Christi for the first time, referred there by the Pittsburgh AIDS Task Force. He left May 31, 1996, feeling better and wanting to live more independently. He returned, sick, Sept. 19, left Feb. 8, 1997, and returned again Sept. 10. He's been there since.

Each stay is longer than the prior one, a sign of the continuing onslaught of AIDS-related infections against his body. When he last returned he was in a wheelchair and weighed 117 pounds. He has an extreme case of neuropathy, which causes nerve degeneration, pain in the extremities and, in some, paralysis or loss of bowel control.

In the fight for his life, discipline is a constant companion. Francis recently quit smoking and drinking alcohol, two habits that weaken the immune system. Three times a week he has physical therapy, which consists mostly of stretching exercises. The metal walker that plods before him as he moves about the residence is a sign of progress.

He eats healthfully - his 6-foot-tall frame now weighs 193 pounds - and drinks bottled water because bacteria in tap water could invite infection.

Then there's the medicine. Fifty pills every day, most in drug "cocktails" that treat AIDS and help patients live longer.

It no longer fazes Francis to swallow dosages huge enough to make the average person vomit.

"You get used to it," he says.

Francis' other medicine is humor, which he takes in heavy doses. He laughs a lot and is in good spirits "from morning 'til night," says Cynthia Klemanski, the facility's administrator.

Supportive friends and family have made life with a terminal illness easier. Francis told close friends about his condition, but it was harder to break the news to his stepmother and 76-year-old father.

He told them just before last Christmas. Neither was shocked, he says, perhaps because they knew he was gay and had been ill.

Francis looks forward to visiting high schools, especially his alma mater, and helping to educate youth about HIV and AIDS. He's convinced that most teens have sex but few use protection. Though AIDS-prevention information is prevalent, it's largely ignored.

"A lot of people aren't getting the message because they don't care," he says. "I had to care."