Clayton Brown The new age
NEW BOY ON THE BLOCK
In the New Year I noticed that a baby was growing on my chin
and a rash appearing all over my body. I soon found myself in the hands of
a dashing South American doctor in A&E who prodded away at the bulge under
my chin, my ‘facial baby’.
He said I had caught a serious viral infection, gave me a course of amoxycillin
and two hepatitis jabs in both African-Caribbean buttocks and told me to get
my arse to the clap clinic the next morning.
Monday morning, sharp, arrive at the clap clinic, at great pains not to reveal
the lower part of my face to people in the waiting room. At the clinic I was
fully questioned and asked to produce urine, blood, saliva and whatever it
is they take from your penis (ouch).
I was chided for allowing them to give me hepatitis B jabs as I appeared to
be immune. “There was no need for me to bend over for the South American
doctor then?” I quipped. The clap doc didn’t laugh. She just said:
“Please come back on Friday for all your results: syphilis, gonorrhoea...
HIV.”
That week the baby on my chin stayed put as did the rash all over my body,
despite the antibiotics. Was I worried? Not really. I thought: “These
things just take time to clear up. I did have unsafe sex a
couple of months ago in a sauna, prior to the baby growing on my chin, but
I was the active partner and everyone knows that role is less dangerous when
it comes to HIV.”
Obviously it was shingles or syphilis, given the rash. I continued trying
to conceal my baby-in-the chin by going around with my hand continuously poised
there in a Plato-style thinking sort of way. Returning to the clinic on Friday
13 January 2006, I resolved never to have unsafe sex again. Furthermore, when
I received my HIV negative result, I would ask the doctor to type up a couple
of sentences stating this fact on NHS headed paper. I would frame it and put
it above my bed like a sort of school certificate and carry it in my wallet
next to my condoms.
When
I got there, they said it wasn’t an STI like syphilis. But when they
said the HIV results weren’t ready, I launched into drama queen mode:
“How can you not have my results? I want my results. You’ve made
me wait a week and I could have had a same-day test elsewhere. Give me. I
want.”
My hysterics got a result and I was told to return in a few hours. But what
was the cause of my facial baby? I began to think seriously about HIV. I had
always considered myself omnipotent, always escaping HIV whenever I had unsafe
sex. I could count the number of times I had unsafe sex each year on one hand,
but it was always under the influence of drink and drugs. The sauna episode
was one such time but I could only hope I had escaped this virus once again.
I didn’t read the job title on the badge of the woman who met me back
at the clinic or even notice how she introduced herself. The fact she ushered
me into a counselling room was enough. No words were necessary.
Since my diagnosis I have worked out who the ‘father’ was, or
rather who was responsible for my baby-in-chin. But the truth is, I was responsible.
No one forced me to have unprotected sex. No one demanded that I put my life
or well-being into the care of a stranger. Friends say I shouldn’t worry
because HIV isn’t the death sentence that it once was. But I do worry.
At the time of writing this I have known my HIV positive status for three
days. I have many questions, mixed emotions but thankfully no one else to
contact. I certainly haven’t slept with anyone in an unsafe way since
the time I suspect I contracted the virus. At least I don’t have to
be burdened with the thought that I may have infected someone else.
I know that since HIV isn’t the ‘death sentence’ it once
was I did not protect myself as I once did. Is this why the infection rate
of HIV continues to rise and in the gay community? Why did I play Russian
roulette with HIV? Why did I sleep with that guy in the sauna in a careless
way? If only I had used a condom. But there is no going back or doing things
differently. Thankfully, today my baby-in-the-chin has aborted itself: this
now is the least my worries.
