A Life Scare Conclusion

Sunday night was not only chilly, it was also a time of deep thought. The next day would be a make and break situation.


A time to visit the hygiene clinic.


It was November since I last visited and I have not been that angelic and sugary sweet.


I thought of postponing it, deliberately postponing it. Deny the thought of returning again for a health check.


But the dread is killing me. Too many thoughts creeping in and out of my head. It was a night of torture. One of the not-so-good nights.


The rain weeped all through the night with the air enticing a deep and undisturbed slumber yet I encountered an opposite feeling. I turned and tumbled on my bed trying to find the best sleeping position or even just rest or even just a nap. I just needed a shut eye that Sunday night.


I got an uneventful one with me waking up at the middle of the night several times and checking the phone.


I woke up Monday morning with that feeling of anxiety, that anxiety I just can't seem to shake off even with a cup of coffee.


I took a deep breath and started preparing.


It's going to be a long day. I thought to myself.


As I walked inside an LRT coach, I felt my heart pump harder. Somehow I wished I didn't do all those.


But I can't undo those nor could I say I didn't enjoy those time. Regrets are such evils I have a hard time getting out of my system.


Alighting down the Tayuman station my jaws clenched and my grip hardened. This is it. The moment I have been waiting, dreading, and nearly postponing just for me to stay away from what might be the truth.


Walking across San Lazaro I could feel my courage picking up. It will be alright. I was trying to convince myself.


It will be alright.


I sat down on a wooden bench near a table where information needs to be filled out.


A nurse, the same nurse who I have encountered twice in the past went out of her room.


She asked me my reason for the visit and gave me an information sheet just like the first and second time. I gladly took the piece of paper, wrote all the needed information, and gave it to her. She told me to come with her inside her room there she wrote what I would be tested for. This time aside from the usual virus test she usually writes, she also wrote in another test - RPR.


I walked down towards Room 106. The room where I always have been sent to. It was not easy to go down the ground floor that time especially since guilt was figuratively eating me inside out plus the fact that a lot of people were there for their health checks too.


After what seemed to be forever the blood was drawn out off my forearm and I was instructed to wait upstairs for the results.


The moment, that very moment I sat waiting for the test result was one of the most panicking 30 minutes of my life. My mind conjured of different questions ranging from worst to best and back to worst then best again.


It was a moment of branching, no, multitude of outcomes. It wasn't easy I tell you. Going there never was.


After a few minutes the nurse went down to get the results.


This is it. The moment of truth. There is no turning back. I could but that would be just running away from the problem.


So I stayed and patiently waited.


I looked around the old paraphernalias about STDs, HIV, signs, symptoms, what to do, who to seek, everything. It was comforting yet guilt was still gnawing.


After a few minutes a white shape was emerging from the steps below. It was the nurse with a piece of paper held between her hands. The much awaited result.


I swallowed a large ball of saliva and clasped my hands together. I need to be brave. I have to be.


The nurse told me to come inside the room. Her expression was neutral. She told me to sit down and that I did. She looked at me with eyes of truth and honesty. She looked at me intently.


She gave me the folded piece of paper, the paper that holds my future.


I looked at the sheet with curiosity.


And I smiled.