A week ago, I finally got tested for HIV and Hepatitis. That was the first time I had had that done since I went into rehab in July of 2017. I’m not sure why it took me so long to get that done. I certainly engaged in behaviors since that time that opened me up to these diseases. I was always careful about not sharing needles but when one is getting high like that, you never really know.
Anyway, I had the blood draw last Monday. The phlebotomist said the test would only take about a day. When I didn’t hear back by Wednesday, I spent the following days telling myself that I hadn’t heard from them because I had a positive test. It was odd. In this day and age, AIDS is from the killer that it was back in the ’80s. If I had tested positive, there was a decent chance I’d die of something else when I was older anyway. So, my black and white thinking had me alternating between telling myself that if I were positive that it was either going to be the end of the world or that it would be no big deal.
The truth is that it would’ve been somewhere in the middle. I was able to actually able to recognize that while it was happening and balance myself, somewhat, while dealing with those thoughts. Of course, now that I know for sure, I’m very relieved that I won’t have to deal with that disease as well.