The Day I Relived Samantha Jones From Sex and the City
So I went to the hospital a few days ago, because I wasn’t well. I met with a nurse, and was subsequently clerked and sent to the doctor. I was soon called into the consulting room, and I unburdened myself to the doctor. He went through my medical records in his computer, and during his perusal, he discovered that my HIV status wasn’t keyed in; I’d objected to the test earlier on and so, that spot was blank.
So, he spent the next several minutes trying to convince me to have the test done, adding that it was the only way I’d get proper treatment. He even insinuated that a possible HIV infection might be the reason I was having repeated stomach cramps. I maintained my refusal, insisting that I wasn’t ready to find out yet. The mere thought of going through the process of finding out had my heart racing, like I’d just done a 100 metre run. I watched him write out the tests he’d be sending me off to take. His handwriting was bad, but it wasn’t hard for me to pick out the one word I didn’t want to be on that paper – HIV. My heart began to race again, and I voiced my objection to the test once again.
At this time, I had started to experience some serious tachycardia. He noticed and proceeded to check my BP. It was 170/90. He seemed a bit worried, and said he’d check it again. After about two minutes, he checked my BP again, and it came back 2 130/80. He concluded that my terror was the problem, and included in the note that I should be counseled.
I went to the lab for my blood to be taken, and reiterated to the lab technician that I did not want the HIV test. He reassured me that the test wouldn’t be done if I hadn’t signed the consent form.
When the lab tests were done and the result ready and sent back to my doctor, he called me back into his office to let me know he’d observed that I hadn’t taken the test. In my mind, I was like, Is this guy for real? Had I not made it clear to him that I didn’t want the damn test?
He then took me to a counselor, who droned on and on for nearly an hour. My doctor was present during the session, and frequently interrupted to enlighten me with narrations of his sexcapades in the past. The counselor had a few stories to tell himself. They tried to make me understand that they’d been bad, BAD boys, and I couldn’t possibly be leading a wilder lifestyle than they’d had. And through it all, they’d had the fortitude to be frequent with taking their HIV tests. So why was I afraid of it? The doctor talked about how lucky I was to be a registered patient of the hospital, and how they’d make available to me the best treatment if I turned out to be positive.
Their persistence wore on my resolve, and eventually, I very reluctantly signed the consent form, and signed over my peace of mind to them.
After that, my blood was screened, and I was sent off to the waiting room. Ten minutes later, I approached the male nurse to know what was going on. He called the lab, and reported back to me that my result would take about an hour to be ready.
So of course, this led to a long hour wait. I paced the waiting room while I waited, and when I got tired of that, I left the room for the treatment room where movement was limited, and I sat there, trying to stave off my worry by concentrating on my Mario World game.
Finally after an hour, the doctor called me back in. He had gotten my result. But he wouldn’t tell me; instead he kept himself busy with some phone calls he was making. I tried to get a word in edgewise, impatiently asking him for my result. He held a hand over the phone to tell me some baloney about how the documents were confidential, and how there were limits and procedures to accessing patient records. I hadn’t taken a HIV test before, but even I could see that this was all bullshit. He went back to his phone call; he was speaking to another doctor, from the tone of their uber serious conversation, and through the loud speaker of the phone, I could hear the doctor say that my result had been uploaded on the database, and that he should access them and deal with the patient accordingly.
Deal with me accordingly? I began to hyperventilate. I felt faint as the blood receded from my head in a rush that threatened to plunge me into unconsciousness. I held on, waiting to know for sure.
The doctor typed a few keys on his computer, stared at the screen for a few minutes, and then called the male nurse into his office. Their expressions were solemn, and he informed the nurse to shut the door behind him.
It suddenly began to feel like my whole world was crumbling down around me. I blinked hard to keep the black dots hanging before my eyes from enlarging and swallowing me whole into blessed darkness. I found breathing a hard task to carry out, and my hands became clammy with sweat.
The doctor leaned over his desk, his hands placed on top and his fingers intertwined. He stared at me and waited. I waited. The tension mounted. A few seconds must have passed, but they felt like an eternity, before he opened his mouth and said the words I thought would signify the end of the road for me.
“You are okay. The test came back negative.”
The blood rushed back into my head, rendering me so light-headed, I had to lean forward to rest my head on his desk. There were tears in my eyes, and a shaky laugh came from my lips. I did not drop into a faint the way Samantha Jones did when the news was broken to her that she was HIV negative in Sex and the City, but I came very close.
In that moment, as I thanked God repeatedly in my mind, I realized that there was no other day in my life that was scarier than this.
Written by BelCullen
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16 Comments
Mandy
August 27, 06:24BelCullen, you get mind sha. You may think you don’t. But the bravest folly is of he who does not know his HIV status and does not want to know.
Peak
August 27, 09:04Word!
Mitch
August 27, 06:32I too have known this fear. The concept of being HIV positive is terrifying to say the least. I think this stems from our misguided notion that being HIV positive is a death sentence. Yeah, HIV can kill you but malaria also can. Same goes for diarrhoea, typhoid and even headaches. We need to rise above that misguided fear. HIV can be managed for decades with constant care. That is the part we always conviniently forget. I hoper to never be positive but that doesn’t mean I’d sink into the depths of despondency if I one day turn out positive
#Chestnut
August 27, 07:25That shit is scary! And d drama d health-workers do b4 they tell u it’s “negative” ehn…I think they do that shit intentinally; they prolly get some weird kick out of making u squirm for 15 minutes.
Silver Cat
August 27, 07:44Let me just toss it out here. If U wanna know Ur HIV status sans drama, let me know.
Max
August 27, 08:02Stop hoeing around.. Then you can have the peace of mind you crave for.
Ive had the test severally, the last one was in June. It never ever moves a hair on my skin. You might ask why I like checking.. I just love updating my records 🙂
Pink Panther
August 27, 08:10*rolling my eyes from KD to Kafanchan* You smug beesh!
Masked Man
August 27, 09:19And those that hoe around are HIV bound?
I’ve seen chaste people who got the virus.
I’ve seen hoes who don’t have it.
Why do you like to fat-shame and slut-shame?
For the records, I know HIV cannot only be gotten through sex. There are other means of exposure.
So how does not hoeing around give you peace of mind?
I remember my first time, I hadn’t even started having decent shags, but I was scared as shit.
You really need to chill.
No one is a hoe.
No one is a slut.
Tiercel de Claron
August 27, 10:32You message I endorse 99% @MM,excepting that bit about no one being a hoe nor slut
Max
August 27, 11:39@MM, you have a higher chance of dying every time you step out of your house than you have when @ home.
You have a higher chance of getting burnt while playing with fire, than you will while playing with water.
You have a higher chance of developing lung cancer if you work with asbestos and/or smoke cigarettes than you do when you don’t have contact with those two..
Its all statistics honey. You can say what you want, but we both know the truth.
Keredim
August 27, 23:35Max, these hoes that you keep patronising, do they use condoms at all? ?
Lothario
August 28, 01:01Seriously, why can’t you be nicer? I honestly don’t think you’re such a terrible person, it’s almost impossible to believe some of the things you say isn’t because you want to stir up trouble. So even if someone is a hoe and gets HIV, I guess instead of empathy, what the person will get from you will be “Oh well! You shouldn’t have been a hoe in the first place”……. You really need to stop!
pete
August 27, 08:17I don’t understand the drama with doing hiv test.i do routine tests every 3 months & hiv is included. It’s no biggie if you strive to live right.
Brian Collins
August 27, 16:08Strive to live right my gay ass. So everyone who’s got HIV doesn’t live right abi? and everyone who doesn’t have it lives right? Shame on you pete, i expected better.
pete
August 27, 16:34Brian,read my comment again. I didn’t even imply that those who contracted the virus didn’t strive to live right. Striving to live right here means no unprotected sex (hiv is not the only diseases you can get), no sharing of sharp objects etc. Routine medical checkups should be the norm for everybody. Early detection of any medical condition helps diagnosis & treatment.
Brian Collins
August 27, 16:25I think almost every gay man fears being HIV positive more than heterosexuals. The fear of being a gay HIV statistic; the fear of not being able to have ‘delicous’ unprotected sex with even more scrumptious forplay with that amazing guy you finally settle down with; fear of not finding anyone to love you because you carry the virus; fear of withering and dying away like that other guy you heard about; fear of not being able to grow old or to bring children forth.
All these are very valid fears, just like fear of flying(don’t even get me started on that one. Because one person doesn’t have that fear doesn’t make everyone same. It can’t be easy for anyone who is positive.
Everyone should still take proper precaution though to reduce the risk of having it.