You're a gay man living with cancer, HIV, or another serious illness — and it rearranged more than your health. The medical part is only what other people can see. Maybe the diagnosis came last week. Maybe you've been managing something for years. Either way, there's the fear that arrives at 3 a.m., the appointments that never quite feel finished, the pressure to stay strong for everyone else while something quieter goes unsettled inside. And underneath it, a question that has nothing to do with medicine: who am I now, and what do I do with the life I still have? I work with gay men facing cancer, heart disease, dementia, and HIV — including long-term survivors carrying decades of grief the world has largely forgotten. I also work with the partners and husbands who love them, and who are often carrying more than anyone thinks to ask about. I won't offer quick reassurance or reframe this into something easier than it is. We work with what's actually here. Sometimes clarity emerges; sometimes what emerges are questions that don't yet have answers. Both are welcome. I came of age during the AIDS crisis, and I learned about illness and death at an age when most people are only beginning to think about their lives. Therapy is what gave me somewhere solid to stand. It's why I do this work, here, in my own community. We start with a brief consultation — no pressure, no commitment. You just have to begin where you are.