"Now if the test comes up positive you're not going to become suicidal, and potentially harm yourself or others are you?"
"Well, I hope not."
"And how will you feel, scared, upset, angry, confused, shocked, hurt, suicidal?"
"Probably a little scared."
"But you won't kill yourself right?"
"Right."
With the first pap test, I thought I'd just get the whole shebang done and just test for everything. If I have to make that cordial "I have an STD and now you do too," call I'd rather make it sooner rather than later, yah know?
And the moment the nurse gave more the HIV test I knew I was finally acting like an adult, at 24, it finally fucking happened. I was making decisions for myself, and only myself. For once my choices weren't somehow appeasing someone else while putting my own concerns on the backburner.
Granted, yesterday I decided it was easier to eat all the leftover pizza rather than wrap up the last two pieces and put them in the fridge... I stand by my choice.
Since I currently don't have health insurance, this was all occurring at a planned parenthood, which aside from not being seen until noon even though I had a 10:30 appointment, went amazingly well. And I mean well in the sense that I was in good hands. Gotta wait a bit for the results.
Maybe this is just from years of going to shitty military doctors who really don't give a fuck about you and your general being, but this doctor really cared. She was amazing, really. Which pisses me off even more people are actually trying to shut Planned Parenthood down/ cut funding. And if you are one of those people you can get the fuck off my blog and kindly go fuck yourself.
She didn't laugh at my stupid questions.
"Can guys get breast cancer, too?"
She didn't judge when I told her this was my first pap test.
"Honestly, since you waited so long to have sex, you really didn't do yourself a disservice."
She even made sure I got my HIV result before I left.
"I mean that's just something people don't want to wait around for, yah know?"
I'm A-ok in that area, by the way. Which I knew logically I shouldn't be worried about, but I was and have been since age 11. At 11 I thought I could get AIDs from sharing cups with other people. I was so convinced I was showing symptoms that I even crept downstairs late at night to read my mother's nursing books to reaffirm my beliefs. (Nursing books, the pre-WebMD era.) Leaving my mother to find me crying about my new diagnosis only for her to laugh, and say, "Haha..no."
So now all that is left is waiting for the results.
"You'll only get a phone call if there's something up."
"So I don't want a call."
"Exactly. Your vagina does not want a call."