A closer walk

The love shack is a little old place where we can get together, love shack baby, love shack." A faint ironic smile pulled at my lips: I'd heard this song many times before, but never in this setting. It was like the room was passing judgment, reminding me how I came to be sitting in a genitourinary medicine (GUM) clinic. He was two metres tall, had dark hair, a gorgeous deep voice, and a thing for blonde girls. I was a blond wild child, enjoying the freedom of travelling, who loved tall men. The condom split.

PIROZZI/UNAIDS
Close encounters of the dangerous kind

In the next six months, the incredible power of denial had squashed words like chlamydia into a box and locked it tight. Until now. I met another tall man and the thought of giving him a sexually transmitted infection compelled me to have a sexual health check. But the waiting list was five weeks, and three letters had been plaguing me: HIV. Statistics swam around in my head.......a third of HIV positive people don't know they're infected.......heterosexual sex on holiday in high risk countries is the key reason for the rise in new HIV infections in the United Kingdom.......The GUM clinic had a walk-in HIV testing centre. So I walked in.

While tapping my fingers in a mildly maniacal manner I scanned the waiting room. Does she have gonorrhoea? Is he going to find out he has hepatitis? Wait: what do they think I have? My mono-logue paused as the counsellor called my name. I was met by a pleasant woman, who asked, in the tone of someone inquiring about the weather, why I thought I might have HIV. I stared intently at a fascinating stain on the curtains while I explained. Four minutes later I walked out of the room, considering her final question: what if I have HIV? She had seemed satisfied by my mutterings, but I wasn't. My hard earned knowledge of HIV/AIDS fed my fear, neglecting latency in favour of falling CD4 counts and Kaposi's sarcoma.

I tried to distract my disobedient mind by concentrating on how environmentally friendly the nurse's son was. "He picks up other people's litter.......really? Are you worried about taking my blood because it might have HIV in it? No, I can't imagine that's very clean.......Are Are you wondering why I've ended up here? As long as he washes his hands.......Are Are you judging me? Thanks. See you later......" I hope I never see her again.

The next day I called to hear the engaged tone. Eight attempts and 25 minutes later, I reeled off my number to be told I was negative. She congratulated me and hung up. I cried. And cried some more as all the stress and worry was finally acknowledged and released. And that was just having the test and it being negative. I was lucky enough to never have to find out: what if?