Status Musings

Status Musings

It’s been nearly a month now, and still I can hardly believe it. My beloved friend, Miss New York by way of Venezuela, and other darling sistafriends have been aware of their STATUS for as far back as I can remember, while I hopscotched through the garden without a clue as to mine. So…

I’m finally a conscientious, card-carrying member of the population, who has taken the plunge to surface with a Negative HIV Status. All praises to the Divine…not to say I was or am promiscuous; I’m not. Celibate is more like it. But the fact is HIV can hide in the body for many years, while you’re dancing through life totally unaware of its presence. Got a tiny yellow slip of card stock memorializing my test date as of 8/27/2010. The results manifested at 11:55 AM. Yes, indeed, I even have a test number. I’m legitimate right down to my test giver’s initials.

And goodness was M.M. hilarious! If you’re going to subject yourself to the pressure of knowing test results with the power to leave you trembling in your seat, praying you can go on after obtaining a life-or-death diagnosis, certainly you deserve a present, articulate, intelligent and worldly HIV Prevention Team Member like M.M. I belly-laughed from the time I entered the Saint Joseph’s Mercy Care Services, Inc. partitioned conference room where the test was administered, off a narrow carpeted hall, to the time I rose to depart, a Cheshire Cat grin plastered across my face. M.M.’s fellow employees worked quietly, stoically, in cubicle-like offices across the hall. One commented that we’d been laughing and having entirely too much fun for the nature of our test, when M.M. closed the conference door and walked me to the front, glassed-in lobby.

The brotha’s comic timing was flawless, like his coffee-bean complexion and genuine smile. I cracked up at his diatribe on irresponsible lovers who should be thoroughly examined before the exchange of body fluids. He joked me about how beaus and ladies come a dime a dozen, using the Marta Transit system to make his point, saying they come every fifteen minutes, so be willing to toss them back into the fray and wait for the next one if they don’t work out. I practically toppled out of my chair, howling.

I’d fully expected to suffer a needle prick but was charmed to find myself swabbing my mouth to gather the culture needed to secure the 30-minute test results. Yes, I’m returning in November to continue laughing and get the follow-up results to make perfectly certain my slate is clean. Call me Fearless.

And one day perhaps you can call yourself the same, if you haven’t taken the cannonball plunge. You owe it to yourself and your significant other(s) and loved ones who’d love to see you around in great health for as long as possible.

Paz, amor y bendiciones a todos~~~
La Diosa de Oro

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