Dear Zach,
23rd of December, 2013
Painstakingly sitting in front of the emergency ward, watching every single minute deliberately passing by, and waiting my name to be called.
“It’s just a blood test, man. Not to worry so much”, I calmed myself.
I knew it would have cost me a hefty amount to have this medical checkup done, but I have to. I needed it for assurance of my health status. I have been screwing and screwed by countless guys throughout the year. I never did anything to get to know my health status. Partly because I did not want to know once I found out I was a carrier of whatnot. I was afraid. I avoided it. I did not want to think about something remotely close to the term HIV or STD. It freaked me out. Until this morning while I was browsing through one of my fellow bloggers, without actually directly to write out what he had been though, plus it did not need an expert in knowing what kind of medication he was having as Google was being very helpful nowadays, he was diagnosed with something unpleasant. I deliberated after reading his post about his condition. I could wait no more. I had to do it now. “It is now or never”, I told myself.
“You may come in now”, standing in the hallway, the nurse beckoned me to follow her into the heavily sterile scented cubicle. So, this is it.
25th of December, 2013
Woken up to the refreshing feeling, though it was not snowing outside of my window, but the soaring blue skies were clogged with heavily grey clouds, as if on cue, the rain started dripping heavily outside of my window. What a typical day, I muttered under my breath. It was Christmas. I was supposed to be happy; I was not in the mood of joyfully celebrating this festive day. Frankly speaking, I was not worrying about the results of my medical report. Having said that, I felt an unspeakable void spreading in my heart as though a tiny patch of bacterial infection colonized each and every single part of my moisturized heart, consuming it. I felt nothing. I wondered what if I was diagnosed with STD or, worst yet, HIV, what am I going to do for the rest of my life? Should I tell my parents about my diagnosis? Or should I keep it as a secret to dead? What if everything turned out unexpectedly in either a good way or bad way? What if I made the most regretful decision in my life? I wouldn’t have known, would I? Predict the unforeseen circumstances was driving me nuts. Let alone predicting the future away.
26th of December, 2013
My mum answered the call from her mobile while we were having lunch in our dining room. I was staring at her as I was absentmindedly stabbing my food because somehow I had a very bad feeling about this.
She turned and looked at me, answering “yes .. I’m his mother… yes .. okay .. thanks.”. The penny dropped. Or should have been my balls dropped. My heart was pounding so hard. I could not hear anything besides eavesdropping. Please do not tell me it is from the hospital.
She set her mobile phone down, and looked at me. “Did you do blood test?” Shite. “They called to inform you that your report has arrived.”
“Ya .. I did.” I said, avoiding eye contact. I could have killed the entire fucking people in the hospital. My anger was rising and my voice was trembling as much as I was being able to control before my mum found out I was telling a lie ob-the-fucking-viously. Why did they call my mum when they have fucking my contact number already? How could they?! So much for the private and confidentiality. I guess they did not tell her what the report was about. Or else, she would not have been standing there interrogating me in calm manners; it would have been yelling and shouting across the street. Or plates flying across the dining room.
“Why did you do that?” my mum narrowed her eyes, her facial expression was turning dead serious. She was expecting life-threateningly serious explanation from me. I could not have dropped this bombshell to her now. I could not. I was not ready to this unexpected bombshell to be landed nowhere. Not now. Not ever. I must have thought of something. Quick. Something believable. “I did it for sperm bank. I want to bank my sperm.” There I said it. I hoped its convincing enough. Not.
“Really?” sounding unconvinced, she tackled me in another way. “Why did you want to bank your sperm?”
“Just because,” I shrugged, pretending to be calm and cool. But failed miserably. “Just that I have been thinking to do this for a long time. So its now or never.” She never gonna let this drop. I had to stop her from further questioning before my panic attack had me spilled off everything. “It’s fine. Do not worry about it. It’s just a checkup to ensure that I am clean.”
She seemed to be unconvinced by my answers. Screw my anxiety. I should have remained calmed while confronting her. She must have sensed something was not right and there must have been an odd reason behind of doing this medical checkup other than doing it for sperm bank.
2 hours later
Fidgeting with my fingers on my thigh, emotionally preparing for the worst case scenario.
“So …,”the doctor had done reading my reports and looked at me. “Everything is fine. HIV status is negative…,”A huge relief rushed over me like a Tsunami. Thank God! “but you have Chlamydia.” My wave of relief took a U-turn.
“What?!” I was astonished momentarily.
“It is the most common type of STD. Symptoms are rarely detected. But no to worry so much about it. It is treatable. Anyone who has unprotected sex will likely to have this. As long as you remember to consume the prescribed antibiotic, then you are good to go.” He smiled.
I knew about Chlamydia. It does not often show symptoms as far as I know. It is definitely treatable. Thank God I did not have serious STD that required lengthy treatment that cost a hefty amount.
After I paid for and obtained my medication, I walked out from the entrance of the hospital toward my car. Along the way I saw a trashcan, I threw my medical reports and bill off for my own good. And never looked back. I was not going to leave any trace behind. It’s between me and the hospital.
Today
I was debating whether should I blog this down. I do not feel ashamed of getting what I deserve. I deserve what I have done as a consequence.
I started writing this 2 days ago. I had zero clue of how to start writing this down.
Courageously typing away what happened for the past 2 days. So here I am .. feeling hopeful and optimistic.
