Tested
Last week BFE Michelle called me to share the news that one of her friends had discovered he was HIV positive. She and I had a long talk about responsibility and the things that led him to this point in his life and that sort of thing. Afterwards I was feeling a bit guilty about it all because I was pretty oblivious to my own HIV status.
Don't get me wrong, I'm not really a high risk sort of individual. I do not participate in the types of activities that this gentleman does, and I practice safe sex, etc. but safe sex includes being tested on a regular basis, just in case. I had fallen down on that part of my responsibilities. I went in being pretty sure of the results already, but there's always those moments of nagging doubt. A cold that lingers for more than a week. A virus that I catch far too easily and the thought always crosses my mind. The last time I was tested was in my first year of grad school, which, though it seems like last week to me, was actually four years ago. It was time.
Discussing it with Roommate M he decided that perhaps he should be tested as well. He's straight, but he's sexually active and that means he's at risk, just like the rest of us, so he agreed to join me. At about 2:30 this afternoon we arrived at the NY Dept. of Health in Chelsea, ready to discover our fate.
My counselor was an interesting woman, asking me the pre-scripted questions in provocative ways. She walked a fine line between being friendly, acting as a counsellor and laying on a small guilt trip about the amount of time I have allowed to pass between tests. It was an interesting experience. M's counsellor sounded much more mechanical and by the script in comparison. I think I lucked out.
The NYCDOH uses an oral test based on saliva rather than blood, (though they still drew a vacutainer full of blood for some reason). The oral test means that my results would be ready in 45 minutes. 45 minutes! That's vastly different from the last time I was tested when I had to wait a week for the results and so was treated to the joy of living with my own thoughts and worries, amplified by the act of having performed the test of course. Today I passed my period of worry by listening to my iPod and watching Montel on the waiting room television.
As I expected the results were fine. I'm negative. (As was M in case you wondered.) It's a nice feeling to know though. It's a nice feeling to be responsibly aware again.
So what about you? Do you know?
Don't get me wrong, I'm not really a high risk sort of individual. I do not participate in the types of activities that this gentleman does, and I practice safe sex, etc. but safe sex includes being tested on a regular basis, just in case. I had fallen down on that part of my responsibilities. I went in being pretty sure of the results already, but there's always those moments of nagging doubt. A cold that lingers for more than a week. A virus that I catch far too easily and the thought always crosses my mind. The last time I was tested was in my first year of grad school, which, though it seems like last week to me, was actually four years ago. It was time.
Discussing it with Roommate M he decided that perhaps he should be tested as well. He's straight, but he's sexually active and that means he's at risk, just like the rest of us, so he agreed to join me. At about 2:30 this afternoon we arrived at the NY Dept. of Health in Chelsea, ready to discover our fate.
My counselor was an interesting woman, asking me the pre-scripted questions in provocative ways. She walked a fine line between being friendly, acting as a counsellor and laying on a small guilt trip about the amount of time I have allowed to pass between tests. It was an interesting experience. M's counsellor sounded much more mechanical and by the script in comparison. I think I lucked out.
The NYCDOH uses an oral test based on saliva rather than blood, (though they still drew a vacutainer full of blood for some reason). The oral test means that my results would be ready in 45 minutes. 45 minutes! That's vastly different from the last time I was tested when I had to wait a week for the results and so was treated to the joy of living with my own thoughts and worries, amplified by the act of having performed the test of course. Today I passed my period of worry by listening to my iPod and watching Montel on the waiting room television.
As I expected the results were fine. I'm negative. (As was M in case you wondered.) It's a nice feeling to know though. It's a nice feeling to be responsibly aware again.
So what about you? Do you know?
I used to get tested every year, but now that I've been with the same person for such a long time, I've moved to doing it every other year. At one point in my paranoid little life, I got it done every six months. I still do the blood test ones, which means I get to worry for a week. I just think it's really important to know one way or the other.