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I have my fears. On the top of the list would have to be dying of drowning, but after that things seem to blur together. A slow death, spanning years. That is frightening as well. The reason I write about this, is because I accompanied a friend for testing recently. He was getting an AIDS test. During an "encounter", common in teenage years as we both know, and the condom may have slipped off at the end. Worry descended when he started to become fatigued all the time, and found himself sleeping right after school. Other things as well bothered him. He seemed to keep colds for longer, and felt sick often. In an act of bravery I can only admire to this day, he called the health office and made an appointment for testing. This alleviated his anxiety in one way, but thrust more upon him in others. Myself as well, for he was one of my very best friends, and to lose him to such an unworthy cause as death would be simply unbearable. He asked me to go with him when he did it, and I agreed without a heartbeats waiting. He needed me, as I do him to help me enjoy life with our other friends. It was scheduled for a week later then when he first told me about his gloomy assumptions. He cried, and so did I. That night in my bed of thorns I wept terrible tears for my friend, for myself, for those who might never meet him if he was afflicted with the terrible plague and passed away. It would never be the same. Never again would we talk about the girls in our class, and who would do who, and of course, hockey. Somehow I slept through that night, and week, but to this day I don't know how he did. I found out it was possible to cry yourself to sleep, as it is something I had joked about before to attractive females who I would miss "dearly" overnight or the summer. The day came, menacing an answer we would rather not have to hear. We went to the health unit, and I waited as he was tested. Blood stolen from his veins for tests of medical magic. He was stuck with a heartless questionnaire, which was actually a riotously funny piece of literature, he told me afterwards. His nervousness had subsided as if a battle rage had settled upon him and was calm all through. He had only answered "yes" to one of the symptoms, and would hear his results in two weeks. The two weeks in between was a level of hell in itself. Not so much as the preceding week, but enough to keep things less than comfortable. He voiced to me that he was not really concerned, and thought the best. I admired that, I really did. So many people are so negative it appals and disgusts me. So we went back after two more weeks of discomfort and uneasiness, back to the health unit. It was a time of revelation, of great despair or soothing, relieving comfort. As it turned out, we could smile again. Our other friends never knew anything about it. Hell, why worry them, huh? Well, the entire ordeal was something I hope I never have to go through again, but gladly would for a friend. It was recommended that I do it, just for the hell of it and the free condoms afterwards (I believe he got something like 25 in a bag afterwards). The questionnaire was hilarious, with questions worded very interestingly:
So yeah... I'd give it a go, but I'm still a virg anyway. Plus needles make me pass out when they're sucking my blood. Dammit. If I was a whore...
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