Testing

I finally got around to making an appointment for STI testing. Its been weighing on my mind over the last year, and in particular recently as there have been many news articles about the rise in STIs in Britain.

I arrived at the clinic at 5:30 - my appointment was at 6pm. The waiting rooms were separated by sex and there were anywhere between 8-12 women in the room at a time. I surveyed the other clients, read the London Paper, thought about my low level of responsibility over the last year, and then started to get sweaty palms and a quickened heart rate. A girl near me kept getting calls from her boyfriend and she kept telling him that she hadn't been seen yet. There was soft, yet slightly inappropriate music coming through a speaker - Barry White, Scissor Sisters, Tina Turner. Sweat broke out on my forehead and I had to concentrate on my breathing to prevent a panic attack while I thought of all the worst case scenarios.

I was finally called in and introduced to a male doctor who was likely from the Indian sub-continent. He was incredibly friendly, but that didn't stop my shakes. We went through a series of questions: When was the last time you had sex? Saturday. Did you use a condom? No. Was it vaginal, oral, or anal. Vaginal. Was this a regular partner, someone you know, or someone you met? Er, someone I met. And before that, when did you have a different partner? A week before that. Did you use a condom? No. Was it vaginal, oral or anal? Vaginal, and um oral. No anal? No. A regular partner, someone you know, or someone you met? Um, a semi-regular partner. And a different partner before that? About a month before that.

I struggled through the questions he fired at me in a kind sort of way - sex with anyone gay or bisexual? Sex with anyone from (list countries with high HIV rates). Intravenous drug use, etc. And how would you like to receive your results?

He then advised me to go back to the waiting room to be called in by a nurse. I sat for another 30 minutes. Finished the paper, started doing the soduko to keep my mind off it. I finished the easy quickly, then messed up the moderate and gave up because I was struggling to keep it together. I was thinking about how I had sex without the use of a condom with four different people in the last year and though only two came in me, that doesn't mean much to infections.

I looked at my watch - it was five minutes since I last looked. I craved a fag and a drink to calm my nerves. I listened to Bob Marley on the radio. I looked at the posters that showed young girls saying:

He said: Its like sucking a sweet with the wrapper on.
You say: If you want it to be sweet, keep it wrapped.

I was finally called in. The nurse took two vials of blood and in the middle asked me whether I was dizzy. No, I mumbled, fine. I then got into the stirrups to have three swabs taken, while she chatted away about why they don't recommend douching (who does that, anyway?).

I was done, result would be posted in the next two to three weeks. I stepped out, still sweaty and anxious, walked straight to the shop to get some fags. I thought about buying an alcoholic drink to consume while I walked, but thought better of it. I passed two pubs and finally stopped at the third - an old Irish pub with two men at the bar, ordered a double vodka and tonic, sat outside, rolled a cigarette and smoked and drank for the next five minutes before continuing on.

I'm feeling a bit better, though still slightly distressed. I must get my act together so I don't have that kind of panic again. I need to be responsible again. I'm not the superstitious type, but what the fuck - keep you fingers crossed for me and my results.