I Ran from My HIV (Part 1)

I remember the day I tested Positive, or should I say was told by a health physician that I was HIV positive. The date was April 19, 2005. I had recently turned 21, and been in a relationship since February of that year. I had contracted a sexually transmitted disease, which was weird to me because I was only having sexual intercourse with one guy, my boyfriend. A man should only have two things come from his penis, and this wasn't one of them. I went to the Doctor on a Thursday got treatment for Chlamydia on that Friday. When I questioned the nurse who called me about my HIV test she told me it hadn't come in.

I got high as hell that whole weekend. I smoked blunt, after blunt, after blunt. I smoked mySelf into an escape, so far into I don't remember the weekend. I do remember that Monday. I went to work, and after I got off I picked up the boo from school. We went back to his house, and around four in the afternoon a nurse from my doctor's office called and instructed me to call the office and make an appoint to speak about the results. "What are they? Tell me, I want to know..."

"I'm sorry, but you'll have to make an appointment." As soon as I hung up the phone I called to make an appointment for that Tuesday morning at 10:15am. I instantly broke down; I kept quiet and told no one.

Sitting in the white office, with green carpets, and green upholstered chairs I waited quietly Impatient. I was numb. Even when she called my name I was absent and hypnotized by the words in my mind. The Doctor walked in, and almost in slow motion, she mindlessly thumbed through chart, "Your Chlamydia came back positive. Did you get the treatment? ...that's negative.... that's negative." and with no effort, and devoid of any emotion, "Your HIV text came back positive, and ...that's negative. Okay so, let's get your western blot.." She trailed off, like, as if I were floating into space.

I am Positive, I actually have it. I didn't cry or breakdown. I let them draw my blood and I was gone. I picked up the phone while in the car, calling my best friends on three-way. They were the first to know, and very supportive. I even made half-hearted jokes about it. The reality of it set in when my mom called me and asked me to take her to pay a bill while on her lunch break. I went home grab a few clothes and I planned to 'run away' after I dropped her back off at work.

I picked her up and pretended as if nothing happened. Just thinking about how I felt, reminding me of the anxiety behind breaking my mother's heart with her own fears. I couldn't do it face to face, so we just talked as if it were any normal day. At home, on her dresser was a sorry note waiting for her from me. I bought my mother lunch, dropped her back off at work, and drove away.