NERVOUS
August 1, 2001

Why was I nervous?

Why was I nervous when I walked through the door, signed my name on the clipboard, and waited for the nurse to call my name? I had visited a doctor many times before in my life, so this time should not have been so much different. But it was different.

I have had a slight cough for a few months. Nothing too traumatic. I cough for about a minute each day. Sometimes I cough at night when I am talking on the phone, and other times I cough while I sitting at work typing on my computer. It just comes suddenly and disappears just as quickly. After some coaxing by a few friends, I finally made it a point to visit the doctor and let him determine what was wrong. So there I sat in the waiting room, reading the latest issue of People, and I realized I was nervous.

The nurse called me back into triage, took my measly weight reading, and guided me to the small room where my doctor soon greeted and talked to me. I let him know about my cough and any additional symptoms I had been feeling. It was then I realized why I was a little apprehensive. In addition to seeking his medical expertise regarding my cough, I needed a much over-due HIV test. It was difficult to explain to him why I thought I needed one, but the words seemed to roll off my tongue as if guided by someone else deep inside me. I was just along for the ride.

But really, why was I nervous?

Why was I nervous when the x-ray technician had me raise my hands over my head as she watched the machine take an internal snap-shot of my 26 year-old lungs. I sat in the cold sterile room as she developed the film. I looked around me, and sub-consciously noticed storage boxes that needed homes, a pencil holder on a nearby desk that had seen better days, and a stack of other patients’ film ready to be shipped to a radiologist for interpretation.

I can’t remember the last time I had an x-ray taken of any portion of my body apart from my dentist taking one of my teeth at my semi-annual appointment. I had broken a bone when I was 5, but since then, I have never been in a situation where x-rays were needed. I rarely got sick as a child, and I was never jumping out of trees or swing-sets. The only thing I can remember from visiting my doctor as a kid was the visit to the ice cream shop afterwards. I always ordered vanilla. Or was it bubble gum?

So, why was I nervous?

Why was I nervous as I looked out the window on the lab technicians office as he pricked my arm to draw a blood sample? If I remember correctly, a gold colored car was pulling into a spot outside. I looked over and blood was filling the small vile with every pump my mortal heart could muster. It was crimson red. I don’t remember blood being that red, especially mine.

I had signed all the consent forms prior to the drawing of the blood sample. Another clip board hosted the forms I signed, and I wondered how many other nervous souls had signed the same black-and-white copied form. I also questioned how many of those souls had signed the first form of many as they began to proceed down their remaining life as an HIV-positive individual.

Again I ask, why was I nervous?

Why was I nervous as I pulled away from the doctors office, turning up the radio as I went?  A band-aid now graced my arm where a needle had briefly resided. At the grocery store later that day, I walked around purchasing food items as if I had recently donated at a blood bank. I don’t think the check-out clerk realized that the band-aid was the last remnant of my HIV test. If he did, would he have checked me out with the same manner and courtesy?  Even now, more than 24-hours later, a small red bump still testifies to the fact my skin had been violated.

Why was I nervous?  Why am I still nervous? Why will I remain nervous?

Life. I saw it pumped out of my vein and into the vile. I saw an internal glimpse of it in the form of an x-ray. I saw it in my face when I got home and looked in the mirror.

As I wait on the test results, my life is something I will be thinking about greatly. I will even think about it more after the results come back, whether positive or negative . I will eventually slump back into the state we all experience, the false state of feeling immortal. For now, I am thankful for the nervousness I am feeling. It is helping me to learn something important. What I do now will determine my legacy long after I am gone. It is up to me, while I am full of life and ample ability, to ensure that my current actions write a history worthy of repeating.

ADDENDUM - 08.14.01

Well I am happy to report that both tests came back negative. The doctor sure take his sweet time getting the results back to me, but I guess it gave me time to think about my actions and inactions, and how they can affect my life forever.

Is the nervousness gone?  No.  And I hope it never leaves.