When my doctor saw that
today was my
birthday she asked whether I'd prefer to get the results of the
HIV test another day... no way. There couldn't be a better birthday
present than walking into her office at
9am and hearing the words "it's
negative". It was the most likely result -- the
rape was (physically, at least) non-traumatic so, even though given
where I live the chances of my rapist being HIV-positive are about one in four or five, I'd have been unlucky to be
infected. I did the whole
prophylactic antiretroviral thing anyway --
AZT and
3TC definitely make a person
feel like shit -- so my chances of seroconverting were even lower, but it still feels good to have the official
word.
It's a strange business: I hadn't even realised I was all that worried until she told me. I still don't know exactly what seroconvert means, even, or quite what the difference is between a virus and a retrovirus. I don't know much about the pharmacological action of any of the drugs I had to take, and why it was a good idea for me to take them. I don't know what it would be like to live with HIV, even as a chronic and controllable disease rather than a death sentence, which it could be for me since I'm (just) rich enough. All I do know for sure is that I'm glad not to have it, and even though the cloud is low on the mountain outside and it'll rain a few more times before sunset, it's a beautiful day...