The Waiting Game

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She frightened me when she burst into the room.

She wore a thigh length white coat that opened in the front revealing a pudgy midsection peeking through blue scrubs.

She paused before closing the door behind her and walking over to me.

I sat nervously on the edge of the examining table wearing nothing but a thin paper gown that had ripped in half while I was putting it on.

“I’m sorry,” I apologized, nervously pulling the white paper cover from in front of me so that she could see that I had already ripped the gown that had been given to me. “I guess I don’t know my strength.”

“That’s okay. I think they are defective anyway. Everyone does that.”

I giggled a little and smiled at her as she extended her hand.

“Hi, I’m Karen,” she said. “I’m your nurse practitioner. The doctor was busy today so I fill in the gaps.”

I looked her over. She was a white lady. She must have been in her early 40’s, a little chubby but I got this very, very warm feeling from her.

“Hi Karen, I’m Ms. Tee.”

“So, what’s going on today?”

“Well,” I say and look away. I’m so embarrassed. “I haven’t been to the doctor in a very long time and…I had..um, sex a couple of weeks ago and I haven’t felt right since. I think something is wrong.”

She begins to write on a paper inside a manila folder. “So, you had unsafe sex?” she asks, as if she already knew the answer.

“No way!” I tell her. “We had safe sex, but I still don’t feel right.”

“You had safe sex?” she asked, eyeing me.

“Yes we did. I’m too grown for that other stuff. Besides, the night we did it, I shaved beforehand and I’ve been irritated ever since. It’s so horrible. I don’t know if he gave me something or if it’s just me.”

“Well I always recommend waxing over shaving. Using a razor helps to spread any infection you may have in such a sensitive area.”

She looks down at her folder and continues to write.

“Ok, let’s go over your history. Have you ever been hospitalized for anything?”

“Yes, I have two kids.”

She laughs and continues, “Are both your parents living?”

“Yes.”

“Does your mother have any serious medical problems?”

“No.”

“What about your father?”

“Uh..I know he has asthma, that’s about it.”

She smiles at me and continues to ask me detailed questions about my family’s medical history and my history.

“Well,” I say, interrupting her. “All I’ve ever had to deal with was my asthma and I’ve had that since I was in elementary school.”

“Well I like to go through my entire list just in case there’s something you may forget. Just to be on the safe side,” she said and smiled at me.

“Sure, go ahead.”

“Do you smoke?”

Oh no! Does she smell the black and mild on my breath? That was the last one– I promised myself. So technically, I don’t smoke- anymore.

“Nope.”

“Do you drink?”

“As much as I can,” I say and laugh.

She raises an eyebrow and asks, “Does that mean every night?”

I smirk and laugh. “No way. I drink socially and I rarely socialize.”

An image of the nearly empty bottle of Vodka on my kitchen shelf pops into my mind and I snicker.

“Do you abuse any drugs?”

Abuse? Man, I don’t have enough money to abuse any drug. That blunt over Thanksgiving break doesn’t count.

“Nope,” I say aloud and bite my lip to keep from smiling.

She examines my eyes, throat and nose. She says I have some inflamed something or other in my nostrils. Whatever. My nose is just big.

“Ok,” she says and stands up. “Let’s get a pap test done.”

That’s pretty much why I’m sitting here naked. I think to myself.

She calls the medical assistant to come in and set things up for her as she looks at my folder again.

“You have excellent insurance!” she exclaims. “Sometimes with other plans we have to find a way around things but your plan covers everything.” I know, I know- My job is the bomb!

She picks up a long thin stick with cotton on the end, it looks like a q-tip. “See this? This costs $130 and the one next to it is $140. Your insurance covers it all. We’re gonna give you the works!”

“Great.” I say stoically, trying to remember what a pap smear felt like.

My thoughtful expression slowly turns into a delightful one. From my recollection it felt quite –good! LOL!

“Scoot down,” the medical assistant guides me as I place my feet in the stirrups.

Karen positions herself directly in front of me and the medical assistant turns on the overhead light.

“Hand me a speculum.” Karen says to her assistant.

“A small one?” the young assistant asks.

“No, give me a medium one, she has two kids.”

“That’s right.” I grin and smile. “I only mess with the big boys.”

I feel a little discomfort as she inserts the speculum but it doesn’t hurt. I see her insert one, two, three of the long q-tips and hand them to the medical assistant.

“We’re gonna go ahead and test you for all of the STD’s and if you’d like we can draw blood for an HIV test and give you a flu shot.”

“Wait!” I call out when I notice she’s about to get up.

“Yes.” she answers and looks at me.

“Um, well, I was um, looking down there and I saw some, um, bumps and..Didn’t you see them?”

“Oh, let me look again. Where are they?”

“On the side, near my pantyline.”

“Well, those are just hair bumps, Tee.”

“Are you sure?”

“I can’t be 100% but that’s what they look like to me. I don’t want to speculate until your test results come back but, I think you have a bacterial infection.”

“I do?” I ask and gulp.

“Yes, but don’t worry, no one gave it to you. You gave it to yourself. Those are caused by germs that most people aren’t prepared to combat. Wearing thongs is a bad idea. The thongs slide from your bottom to your vagina and all the germs slide with it. If you wipe from back to front, you’re spreading germs too. Even not using bleach on your underwear will cause the germs to continue to live and grow.”

“For real?”

“Yeah… That would explain the discomfort. But it’s perfectly treatable if we catch it in time. “Come on and sit up and let’s get the rest of the tests out of the way.

My head is spinning as I sit up. “Sure,” I answer weakly.

“Great! Go ahead and get dressed. I’ll be back with a prescription for some new inhalers. I want you to refill those prescriptions every month until you have an inhaler stashed in every room of your house, in your car even at your job.”

“Ok, um, could you actually pass mine to me right now? I’m kinda tight in my chest.”

“Ok, but while we’re at it I’ll give you a prescription for Flonase to help with your allergies. You’ll be on it for the rest of your life but at least you’ll be more comfortable.”

She walks out.

Great! I have always HATED the idea of being dependent on any kind of medicine. I am not taking Flonase and becoming dependent on it!

~sigh~

I get dressed and the medical assistant walks back in. I sit down and she draws some blood and gives me the flu shot. I used to be deathly afraid of needles when I was younger. I remember singing Hangin Tough by The New Kids On The Block extremely loud while the nurse put in my IV when I had bad asthma attacks. But now, shots don’t hurt anymore.

I gather my things and walk out the door. Once inside the elevator reality hits me. Damn. I’m waiting on the results from an HIV test again.

This really, really sucks.

I know I don’t have unprotected sex anymore. I know I get tested every year, but damn. People are dropping left and right. I’m no different from anyone else. Man, the messed up thing about it is, my random sexual encounters only happen when I get bored. I have sex when I’m bored, how dumb is that?

Sure, I try to choose men who are cool with me and I trust, but…you never know. What if I chose the wrong friend to do it with?

I always believed that I would make a difference in this world but I don’t want it to be because I am an AIDS activist. I want to do something good, help some people have better lives, but I don’t want my life to end. I can’t even lie, this would be the perfect punishment for all the stupid sex I’ve had.

The worst part about it is, if my test comes back positive I may never get to accomplish my dreams or see my boys grow up to love God and respect themselves and others…and…I’ll never get to experience the love and covering of a man that I can trust enough to simply, be myself.

And so I wait…