#102 I am NOT HIV positive.
So last week I was getting my haircut and my friend Lance starts talking to me about how this girl he was seeing got upset at him because he went to get tested for STD’s. Apparently she took that as a shot at her. In the midst of this conversation he brought up to me that a former partner of mine was rumored to have been “burnin niggas” This in addition to a warning from another partner of mine in the September era who told me she had an STD made me a little on edge. So in the interest of starting a new relationship without baggage of any sort (emotional or physical) I decided to go get myself tested. As expected by me in my last post I did start frequenting the casino and various card games about the city in the absensce of my main source of entertainment. And also as expected it completely ruined my sleeping patterns so I was awake at 7:30 this AM to visit the local free clinic and beat the rush. After drawing blood they bring me into this room where this lady with a glove tells me to drop my draws. She’s not really my type but she had a pretty face so I oblige hoping I’m not too dis-erect. She grabs and stretches my penis which I only think is uncomfortable because then she proceeds to stick some kind of cotton swab directly into the hole clearly marked “Exit only” If I had known she was going to do that I don’t know if I would have had the courage to get tested. At any rate they tell me to go wait in the room for my HIV results. I’m mentally prepping myself to hear the results, rationalizing to myself the reasons why I couldn’t possibly have HIV. The sign on the wall mocks me
Symptoms of HIV may not show from several months to several years after contact with HIV.
The lady with the white labcoat who was sent to retrieve my results comes back in the room and asks for my name to verify that I’m the patient who’s results are on the sheet she’s holding, then tells me to wait just a second. In my head I’m like “Wait for what? How long does it take to say negative?” So when after five minutes she still hasn’t come back I start rationalizing why I do have HIV. Once again the sign mocks me.
There is no cure for HIV
I’m sleep deprived and slightly weary from all the blood they sucked out of my arm so I start getting real antsy in my head. Finally the lady comes back out and calls #41 as opposed to my real name.
she walks me into the office, and with her foot begins removing the doorstop so she can close the door. “Fuck she need to close the door for” my ego says getting defensive now. I’m quite positive at this point that she’s going to tell me I have HIV so I just drown everything out and wait for the key word. The English langauage has some beautiful words but none more eloquent than…
“You’re ok.” she says
” ” silence from me.
“So what are you going to do to prevent HIV in the future?”
“I’m getting married” I tell her with more conviction than any profound statement I’ve ever made.
So life is good now. I got my Ipod back yesterday, I got money in my pockets, tomorrow is the fish fry for Good Friday, I’m in love and shit, and I’m 0 for 1 on terminal illness.
By the way thanks to all the well wishers who commented on my last post. I don’t plan on being all mushy here all the time so count on not hearing too much more about Kawagalyn unless it’s part of the story. But know that she’s not going anywhere.