Stolen Lines

Feeling both empowered and terrified as I drove into work, I looked up at the sky and started talking.

I can't believe I did it. I asked for the test, calmly entered the orders myself into my chart, sat while the blood was drawn from my arm, dark red wine after a painless little pop of the vein, cracked jokes with my favorite medical assistant while she offered me kind words of assurance and nervously drew the blood. Gloves clear with sweat. Laughing and hoping, worried, I went about my day.

Suffering ends when craving ends. When one is freed from desire.

I did this on my own. I can do anything on my own.

But taking the time, being brave enough to face my fears, that is empowering. Sure, my test is probably negative. Sure the chances are like 1 in 10,000. But knowing my luck as of late, nothing, absolutely nothing, would surprise me. And so what if it is, I'll join a convent of lesbian nurses. I'll go on a spiritual retreat. I will forgo alcohol, cigarettes, coffee, sex. After all, it's always best to be prepared, have a back-up plan for everything. A chuckle forms at my lips, thinking of how I am going to tell all my friends about how scared I am. How scared I was, when really there is nothing to be scared of at all.

"You'll be fine, dawg, I know it," they all said.

If three months ago I had accidentally plunged a large-bore hollow needle into my thumb after injecting it into an HIV+ person, I would be scared shitless.

Three months of hoping and waiting.
One month of medications, really it's nothing in relative terms.
Three days of testing.
One day off of work.
A milli-second mistake.
For some people, it's life. And they are okay with it.
Maybe one day, I would be, too.

Life as we know it ultimately leads to suffering in one way or another.

I start to cry, imagining just how I am going to break the news to my friends, my family. I can see it now, "Jane, you have to come in to get your results." That is never good news. Co-workers, friends, acquaintances, all with that same look in their eyes. Pity. The same look I have given patients so many times, when delivering the news that forever alters the courses of their lives. There is no way to really make it better. For myself, for them.

I collect myself, and call a friend. Several minutes of reassurance and going back and forth, I convince her to let me check my results on my own.

I don't want to put you in that awkward place of giving me a positive result.

Click.

And a few more clicks on my keyboard.

Crescendo.

Result not back yet.

Decrescendo.

What does that mean? It's been 24 hours. Negative results are always back in 24 hours. Well, it's been 21 hours. Why is it not back yet? It must be positive. Maybe it's, what if it's positive? I start crying. Should I go for a run? Yes, I'll go for a run. 30 minutes gone by, and I will look again. Surely they will be back by then. Maybe the lab isn't open yet. Maybe they went for their morning coffee run. Maybe each and every one of the protein markers is slowly turning positive. Ooh, this episode of "Charmed" is funny today. Prue turned herself into a man to entice this witch-lady who only goes after men, and she totally pulls off drag. Maybe she's gay. Oh my God, what if Shannen Doherty were gay? Maybe I should look again one more time before my run. Maybe I should finish watching the episode and laugh one last time in my life, then check my results. Wow, is that her real voice? It's so deep. I bet she watched drag-king shows in preparation for this episode. She's a much better actress than people give her credit for.

Episode over.

I walk to my computer and, crying, log in to my chart. Result back, unsigned. No one else has seen it yet.

Non-reactive.

Negative. I tested negative.

I check again, just to be certain there is no mistake.

Non-reactive.

The doctrine further asserts that because things are impermanent, attachment to them is futile and leads to suffering

Crescendo.

I start crying. I walk to my bedroom in silence, slip on my running clothes, turn on my i-pod, and go for a jog. 30 minutes later, I get home, take a shower, and get dressed. I text message friends and let them know, thanking them for being so kind and supportive.

Decrescendo.

I slip on my white coat, stethoscope folded in my hands, I get in my car.

Feeling both empowered and terrified as I drove into work, I looked up at the sky and started talking.


(Note: this is part of Grace's "Stolen Lines" series)

Update #2

Hello everyone and anyone who may still read my blog. (thanks if you still do, by the way).
I feel that I owe you another update on my recent HIV scare 3 months ago. I just got my 3-month re-test yesterday, checked my results this morning, and they were negative.
It was a huge relief.
Thank you to call who have wished my well, held their collective breaths, and said their prayers to whichever gods and goddesses you worship. I feel like I can finally start to put this nightmare behind me.
I expect to be up and blogging again shortly. School is almost out, the weather has turned beautiful, and I have started to deal with a lot of my stressors in positive ways.
More to come!

Update

I am sorry for waiting so long to provide an update on my prior article.
As of now, all of my HIV and hepatitis tests have been negative. Good news!

I will be re-tested again in about a month, and that will be an almost definite guarantee that I will not seroconvert.

I do appreciate all of your thoughts and wishes, JHG, Fannie, Antigone, Seda, REM... Thank you so much. It has been a trying and stressful couple of months, and I am relieved it is nearly over. I hope everyone is doing well, and I will be back in the blogosphere soon.

My HIV Scare

I haven't posted for a while. I am sorry. In the midst of the usual work-study-school cycle that I have endured for the past 2 years, I have also been dealing with something else.

So, this will be a break from the usual political or health-themed articles I have been writing. Basically, I am scared, and I haven't told many people even in real life.

But this is my relatively anonymous blog, where only a few people really know who I am. In my own way, this is my therapy.

Without being too specific, within the past 2 weeks I accidentally stuck myself with a used needle while doing my nursing duties.

The needle had caused the patient to bleed. I am not sure if or how much blood was on it.
The needle was relatively large and hollow-bored.
While fumbling with the so-called "safety" mechanism on the needle, the syringe slipped from my hand and while trying to catch it, my thumb penetrated the used needle. I should have just let it drop to the floor, I suppose.
Within seconds I was also bleeding from inside my glove.

The source was an HIV-positive person.

I suppose everyone at some point in their lives has a moment like this. An accident. A diagnosis. The death of someone close. One single moment that you soon realize will determine the course of the rest of your life.

I can only describe the way I felt when it happened as a wave of nausea accompanied by visions of everything that led up to this moment, everything I had worked for, and everything that one little mistake might mean for the rest of my life.

Realistically, the chances of health-care professionals' seroconversion when exposed to HIV are around 0.3%, per the CDC. I know the odds are in my favor. But the chances are never zero. And just knowing that I was definitely exposed in a real way to something is not good for my hypochondriac soul.

Within a couple seconds I was hovered over the sink, washing my thumb with hot water and soap (also squeezing it like a snakebite, as if that would actually help), while calmly letting the patient know what had happened.

I am also in the midst of completing a rather hellish course of PEP (Post-Exposure Prophylaxis), which for me is 4 different HIV medications...which can have both annoying and serious side effects themselves. The purpose of the PEP therapy, based on what is known about the pathogenesis of the HIV virus, is to prevent systemic infection by introducing anti-retrovirals within the 24-72 hour period it takes for the virus to infect regional lymph nodes at the site of innoculation. Basically, the medications I am taking, we hope, would prevent any replication of any theoretial virus or virus-containing cells that may have entered my body. Of course, studies in humans for this are rather limited for obvious reasons (ie-thousands of health-care workers who were exposed would have to enroll in an efficacy trial), but the limited animal and human studies that have been analyzed have shown an 81% reduction in HIV seroconversion following a 4-week course of PEP.

I'm trying to keep a good outlook on things.

I will be re-tested in a couple weeks. I may or may not ever write another post about this again.

Just thought I would share my story.

Peace.

Christians for Equality

I just found the following wonderful new blog, called Christians for Equality.

It looks like the author is attempting to counter the widespread tendency of anti-gay folks to mis-represent themselves as "victims." Well, and not only that, she is showing that (obviously) Christians can be for gay rights and equality. I am sure we all knew that, but it seems like the squeaky wheels of the Christians always get the most grease. This looks like it could be a refreshing new blog.

Her post today, for example, is a youtube clip featuring "Christian-bashing" vs. (the very real) gay-bashing.
Please check it out.

Sabbatical

Sorry for the long delay and for not checking in. The school year picked up again after the New Year, and I've been busier than ever. These last 5 months are the home stretch and I won't get much time to write until then. I'll stop by every now and again, and I'll still be reading other blogs.
I just have to devote more of my energy to school right now, instead of writing for fun.
I'll be around...

Until then, enjoy.

Well-wishes for Patrick Swayze

Today, I am sending out some positive energy to Patrick Swayze and family, in hopes of a speedy recovery from pneumonia, a likely complication of a chemotherapy-weakened immune system from his year-long battle with pancreatic cancer. Swayze checked himself into a hospital on Friday, just 2 days after his Barbara Walters' interview aired on ABC.

Swayze has been one of my favorite actors since the classics Dirty Dancing and Ghost. And he is pretty foxy, too.

I wish him the best.