So two people got on my case yesterday/today about not blogging anymore and i took the hint from the universe. First off, where the fuck have I been? Working.
Anyway, back to writing fun stuff at my friends request...
I went for an HIV test yesterday. Mostly it was done on a whim, but also I hadn't been properly tested after the 3 months you have to wait for the anti-bodies to show up in your blood. So while my risk was low (as I've only had one partner in over a year) there was still a chance that during 'the break' that b and i took we still may've caught something.
ANYWAY, let me say I have rarely felt that nauseaous in my life. I can do needles fine, but giving blood (or blood in general) makes me feel sick. So when I decided, on a whim, to get tested I didn't really have anything prepared to keep myself from fainting (usually a bottle of OJ keeps me going).
The nurse administering the test was a nice guy who did a presentation for the gay men's health seminar a few months back. It was nice to see a familiar face even if he didn't remember me. We exchanged some small talk, which was slightly more involved than the stuff you reserve for a barista or something, and he began asking my details, when was the last time I was tested, why i was getting tested, things like that. As he asked me these I kept myself thinking of other things which would keep me distracted.
The nurse asked if I would like the rapid, early, or standard test for HIV. Each of them have their own charm, and I had intended on getting the standard because I wasn't terribly concerned about the result with any urgency. Either I had it and have had it for an extended period of time, or I didn't. I had prepared for this kind of waiting game.
He suggested the rapid one instead, just to get it over with.
Now I had made peace with the notion that I'd part with gallons of blood (jk) and then wouldn't have to deal with the result for 2 weeks. But the rapid test lets you know in about 60 seconds. Instead of a needle drawing blood I'd just have a pin prick my finger for a scarce few drops.
The reality set in. 60 seconds can change your life. It had happened a few times when I was younger, and I hadn't really prepared myself for the prospect of knowing something of this magnitude in such a short time.
Numbly I agreed.
The nausea wasn't so bad anymore because now I felt fear. However remote the chance, there still are some scary statistics floating around out there. Was I about to add to them? I looked at the nurse and played a few scenarios out in my mind if I had been given a grim result. I envisioned a numb response first, stoic and collected, I'd be a responsible person and take ownership of the result. Of my status. I'd listen to the nurse tell me my options, the drugs, instilling within me the hope of modern medicene.
But then I thought of the much more real response that I would probably give. The polite shock would wear off and a new chapter in depressive self-destruction would ensue. I was not prepared for this.
I was distracted and obedient as the nurse sterilized the end of my finger for the test. A prick of the finger which didn't even register in my mind even as it issued a scarce few drops of blood.
After carefully collecting these, the nurse went about the test, transferring the blood, my blood, to one vial, then from the vial to a plastic tray. He added a second vial to the tray and the solution drained away. All in 60 seconds.
Then casually, amidst the small talk which apparently I was still taking part in, he said, "You're negative."
There was no relief because I still felt the fear and uncertainty as real as any other feeling I had felt that day. I don't think it'll leave me.
...and I think that that is a very good thing
Earl Grey out.
PS If any of my 0 readers any questions, about testing, my experience, support, or anything else regarding gay men's health I'm more than willing to talk (actually its kind of my job now :P)... In fact I think that may be a fun new purpose of this blog.
