A decade and a half ago today, I was diagnosed with HIV. I always get depressed on this day - my psyche seems to remember the moment I found out and pulls me into gloom. On the bright side, the biggest worry is not my health, which is great. It's the fear that the US government will reward my survival by forcing me to leave my home and country of the last two and half decades, separate me from my husband and dogs, and finally force me to do what every other non-American with HIV has to do once the waivers run out: leave. I have till next March unless the law changes.

We want to hear what you think about this article. Submit a letter to the editor or write to letters@theatlantic.com.