이름:갈갈이 (hcm@hanmail.net) 2002/8/26(월) 16:17 (MSIE5.5,Windows98,H010818) 61.77.24.125 1024x768

매직존슨은 약과 다이어트와 운동으로 극복했다.   He takes drugs that debuted in 1995 and 1996 to fight HIV. The key is a drug called a protease inhibitor that suppresses the virus. Johnson has never shown signs of the disease. But before protease inhibitors, his T-Cell count -- which measures how the immune system is working -- was "low normal." It has since improved. 존슨은 약물보다는 채소과일류를 많이 섭취하고, 운동을 많이 했답니다. 물론 protease inhibitor를 먹었구요... 아래는 내용. Johnson and his doctors say he isn't taking experimental drugs or treatments. "It's the same as everybody else," Johnson said. "What people have to understand is that the virus acts differently in everybody." He changed his diet, eating more fruit salads and chicken. He's added muscle. Johnson likely will weigh 250 pounds or more when he plays at Breslin at 9 p.m. Friday. At MSU, the 6-foot-8 player weighed about 200. Johnson often works out up to five hours a day, arriving at the gym just after 6 a.m. He keeps the routine even when he returns to Lansing. "I'm always talking about what it means to be mentally tough and physically tough," Izzo said. "He lives it." 아래는 전문입니다. ======================== Magic's miracle Nov. 7, 1991: Johnson announces he has HIV -- 10 years later the deadly virus is 'asleep' Tim Martin Lansing State Journal Earvin Johnson will revel in the roar of the Breslin Center crowd Friday night. He'll reflect on his 1979 national championship season at Michigan State University. He'll mingle with folks who first saw him play as a gregarious and gifted teen leading Everett High School to a 1977 state championship. Then he'll try not to get torched by kids half his age during an exhibition game against the Spartan men's basketball team. "I'll be able to keep up," the 42-year-old said last week from his Beverly Hills, Calif., office. "I'm looking forward to it." Magic is coming home bigger and stronger for a night that would have been hard to imagine a decade ago, when he stunned the nation by announcing he had HIV - a virus that causes AIDS. The charmed life of the rich, famous, beloved basketball star appeared to be in jeopardy. How many of the 14,759 expected to pack Breslin on Friday thought he would be too sick to play basketball by now? Too sick to be Magic? How many thought he would be dead? "None of us knew," Johnson said. "Me either. But all the prayers they sent up, all the love they showed me ... that's the reason I'm here." Nov. 7, 1991 was the day Johnson helped shatter the notion that AIDS was a gay man's disease. He helped usher awareness of the virus into mainstream America and forced the nation to pay more attention. Since then, he's raised money to research, treat and prevent HIV and AIDS. Friday night's game between the Magic Johnson All Stars and the Spartans will be more than a celebration of another basketball season or past MSU glories. It will be a celebration of how life continues despite HIV. Expect the same Magic whose smile has charmed the nation since his days growing up on Lansing's west side. "With Magic in the house, it's a different house," MSU coach Tom Izzo said. "It's going to be one of the most exciting things that's going to happen here." Johnson is one of the estimated 900,000 Americans living with HIV or AIDS. Fewer are dying from the disease each year: about 16,700 in 1999, down from nearly 40,000 in 1991. Johnson is part of a growing category known as "long-term non-progressors." He's still HIV positive, but showing none of its classic signs -- weight loss, sapped strength or susceptibility to infections. "Through the grace of God, it's asleep in me," he said. Raising awareness Christine Johnson will spend this week making some of her son's favorite dishes: fried chicken, turkey with dressing and sweet potato pie. "It's a miracle," Magic's mom said. "A lot of people who contracted HIV a decade ago are gone. He could have been, too. But he's still here, watching his children grow up." Magic's parents, Christine and Earvin Sr. of Delta Township, learned of his illness a few days before the rest of the world. He called from L.A. and told them why he was going public with a disease that thousands of others chose to hide. "He said we taught him to never run away from a problem," Christine Johnson said of the fourth of their seven children. "He said, 'You taught me to step up, and this is no different.' " Magic Johnson says he never considered trying to hide his diagnosis, even though he knew he risked criticism. "It needed a face to go with the disease," he said. "I spoke for a lot of people whose voices were not heard." Johnson stepped up to the microphone and detailed how a bigger-than-life celebrity was brutally human after all. The 32-year-old Los Angeles Lakers legend was poisoned in his prime. And his words brought the disease, which cripples the immune system, chillingly into the nation's collective consciousness. "Because of the HIV virus I have attained, I will have to announce my retirement from the Lakers today," he said that day. "... It can happen to anybody ... even me, Magic Johnson." Lansing State Journal file photo Prominent spokesman: Magic Johnson talks with New York students on the eve of World AIDS Day in 1995. Johnson, who announced in 1991 that he had HIV, has raised awareness and about $50 million in the fight against HIV and AIDS. Johnson (shown below in 1992 when his Los Angeles Lakers jersey was retired) shows no symptoms of the disease. A decade ago, most people thought AIDS afflicted only gay men, who got it during unprotected sex with infected partners. Heterosexuals accounted for less than 4 percent of HIV/AIDS cases then. But Magic contracted HIV during a 12-year NBA career marked by a string of one-night stands with women from coast to coast. He married Cookie Kelly two months before he learned he was infected. She was pregnant at the time of his announcement, and gave birth to Earvin Johnson III on June 4, 1992. Both are HIV free. Johnson was criticized for the lifestyle that led to his infection, and the possibility he unknowingly passed it to others. He also was lauded for going public. AIDS counselors say he saved lives by raising awareness about the virus and how it's transmitted. The day of Magic's announcement, the National AIDS Hotline received 40,000 calls -- 10 times more than a typical day. The Centers for Disease Control took 10,000 AIDS calls in a single hour. The pre-announcement average: 200. AIDS testing appointments tripled in Chicago. Condom handouts tripled in Boston. "What it did is burst the general public's balloon of denial," said Craig Covey, executive director of the Midwest AIDS Prevention Project. Johnson's mother wonders if it was divine intervention, helping bring attention to the epidemic. "We don't know why God picks different people to do different things," she said. "God may have chosen him to be affected by this." Coping Johnson discovered he had HIV shortly before the start of the L.A. Lakers' 1991-92 regular season. Top Lakers officials learned Johnson's diagnosis the night of Nov. 6, 1991. Laker public relations director John Black arrived at work the next morning to see Laker legend and then General Manager Jerry West crying at his desk. "After our first meeting about it, I made it 40 feet down the hallway, and I couldn't make it any further," said Black, a Bay City native who spent hours talking to Johnson about family and the auto industry back in Michigan. "I just collapsed into a chair and started bawling." Johnson arrived about 20 minutes before his press conference to brief Laker brass on what he would say. "He was solid," Black said. "He held it together. The rest of us were a wreck." Johnson led the meeting, just like on the court. Those leadership skills have helped him combat HIV, friends say. "He's always been a fighter," said Dale Beard, a longtime Lansing friend. "He never gives up on anything." Beard said he was "numb all over" when he heard the news, watching on television at a north Lansing Sir Pizza. "But after I talked to him, I was inspired," Beard said. "He was calm. He was upbeat. He was the same old cat." Jud Heathcote, coach of the Spartans' 1979 NCAA title team, said at the time: If anyone could beat it, Johnson could. "But to be honest, I didn't understand the disease. Very few of us did at the time," he said. "In the back of my mind, I questioned if anyone could beat it." Gregory Eaton, a Lansing businessman and longtime friend, had lost a cousin to AIDS two years earlier. "I thought (Johnson) was gonna die," Eaton said. "Thankfully I was wrong. And I'll tell you why he's beating this thing. It's his attitude. He is always, always upbeat." Tough times Johnson's attitude was tested in the year after his diagnosis. He retired because doctors feared the NBA's punishing pace would weaken him and hurt his chances of survival. "Tough to give up the game you love," Johnson said. After winning a gold medal in the 1992 Olympic Games, Johnson trained for a controversial return to the NBA. Players worried they would catch HIV by exchanging sweat or blood with the three-time NBA Most Valuable Player. Johnson canceled his plans for a comeback in November 1992 -- issuing a short statement read by an agent. The fact he didn't announce it himself was a hint at his pain, friends say. "It has become obvious that the various controversies surrounding my return are taking away from both basketball as a sport and the larger issue of living with HIV for me and the many people affected," Johnson's statement said. His endorsement deals -- worth an estimated $3 million a year -- became less visible. Behind his back and in letters sent to the Lakers and his agents, some said Johnson was getting what he deserved from his promiscuity. Athletes in other sports chimed in. Nolan Ryan, a Hall of Fame pitcher, said Johnson should have known the risks. "I have a problem with making a hero out of him because of AIDS," Ryan wrote in his biography. Tennis star Martina Navratilova said that if Johnson were a woman who caught the virus the same way he did, fewer people would see him as a hero. In 1992, a Lansing woman sued him. The $2 million suit claimed Johnson knew or should have known he had HIV, and claimed he passed it on to her in 1990. Johnson's attorneys admitted the two had sex but said there was no evidence he infected her. The suit was dismissed. Meanwhile, some of Johnson's HIV awareness efforts grew frustrating. Wal-Mart refused to sell a video made by Johnson and actor Arsenio Hall. The tape promoted safe sex and demonstrated the proper use of a condom, using a finger as a model. The tape was deemed too controversial by the retailer. Johnson resigned from the National Commission on AIDS in 1992, saying President George Bush wasn't serious enough about fighting the epidemic. Back in Lansing, Johnson's family dealt with the stress of friends and strangers saying Earvin would die. "It was hard on us, but even harder on him," Christine Johnson said. The learning curve Johnson never lost his love for basketball, and still wanted to play as the 1995-96 season approached. And the nation had learned enough about HIV to be comfortable with Johnson's return. Olympic teammate Karl Malone, who opposed his 1992 return, apologized: "I have no problem playing against him. We're much more knowledgeable now." But Johnson's game wasn't as sharp. He quit after 32 games -- his point made. "I am going out on my own terms, something I couldn't say when I aborted a comeback in 1992," he said. Medical advances helped. Although Johnson can afford the best medical care in the world, he's likely benefited the most from drug advancements available to most HIV patients with health insurance. He takes drugs that debuted in 1995 and 1996 to fight HIV. The key is a drug called a protease inhibitor that suppresses the virus. Johnson has never shown signs of the disease. But before protease inhibitors, his T-Cell count -- which measures how the immune system is working -- was "low normal." It has since improved. Johnson and his doctors say he isn't taking experimental drugs or treatments. "It's the same as everybody else," Johnson said. "What people have to understand is that the virus acts differently in everybody." He changed his diet, eating more fruit salads and chicken. He's added muscle. Johnson likely will weigh 250 pounds or more when he plays at Breslin at 9 p.m. Friday. At MSU, the 6-foot-8 player weighed about 200. Johnson often works out up to five hours a day, arriving at the gym just after 6 a.m. He keeps the routine even when he returns to Lansing. "I'm always talking about what it means to be mentally tough and physically tough," Izzo said. "He lives it." Lansing State Journal file photo All Smiles: Magic Johnson hugs his high school guidance counselor Frances Bryd (right) during the September 1999 grand opening of his Starbucks coffee shop in East Lansing. Still in business Johnson's business career helps him stay focused on fighting HIV. He owns 5 percent of the Lakers. His own company, Magic Johnson Enterprises, is worth an estimated $500 million. It includes movie theaters, restaurants and ownership in Starbucks coffee shops -- including one in East Lansing. Most are in inner cities, providing jobs and entertainment in previously abandoned neighborhoods. But Johnson's popularity transcends racial, economic and cultural lines. "Everyone who deals with Earvin shares in the success," said Lansing businessman and longtime friend Joel Ferguson. "He's comfortable with everyone." That trait also made him the perfect messenger in the battle against HIV. The Magic Johnson Foundation started in 1991 to boost awareness about HIV. The foundation has expanded to include college scholarships for blacks, but HIV prevention remains a key focus. Johnson estimates he's helped raise at least $50 million for research and awareness, including four treatment centers. But his fight against the disease, friends say, is just as evident in his everyday approach to life. Johnson has three children. Andre, 20, moved to Beverly Hills after graduating from a Lansing high school. The Johnsons adopted daughter Elisa in 1995. Johnson says he's looking forward to his Lansing return. And while he's more focused on the homecoming than his HIV status, he knows that everywhere he goes, he's a testament to how to survive -- even thrive -- with the virus many thought would have killed him by now. "You've got to live every day," Johnson said. "It's only over if you think it's over." Contact Tim Martin at 377-1061 or tmartin@lsj.com.