A Year in the Life

A TESTING TIME

I’LL ALWAYS remember 1994 as the year of my first (and hopefully last) AIDS test. For the record, I’m not gay and don’t use IV drugs, but having led a pretty hedonistic lifestyle over the last few years (honestly – ask any barman in Galway) I finally decided to behave in a responsible Nineties fashion and have a test done. After all, you never know, do you?

Off I trotted to the STD Clinic where to my (and their) extreme embarrassment I found that I knew several of the people quavering in the waiting room. It was even more embarrassing when the nurse came in wearing tight rubber gloves and addressed me as “Mr. Smith” in front of them. Still, these things happen . . . In I went where a doctor did things to me that, had he been a priest, would’ve got him arrested. Next to that incident at my sixth birthday party it was probably the most humiliating experience of my life. To make matters worse I had somewhat naively presumed that I’d get the results immediately, so imagine my dismay when the doctor told me that it’d be a fortnight before I’d know. I tried offering money but to no avail. I was going to have to wait.

The next two weeks were a complete nightmare. Past incidents of unsafe sex came back to haunt me. Every time I opened a newspaper or magazine there seemed to be an article about AIDS. Television was worse. I became totally paranoid and depressed. To make matters worse, my girlfriend (who had been away all summer) was due to return on the day I got my results. What if I tested positive? What would I tell her? How would I tell her?

A few things helped me through that horrible waiting period. One was work. I was writing a feature on the Galway Arts Festival for Hot Press at the time so that helped me distract myself from the life and death issues raging in my head. I do remember leaping from my typewriter screaming “I’m going to die!!” on a couple of occasions but otherwise I managed to finish the story. My friends were a great help also (although I think that seeing my distress may have turned them off having tests done themselves). Most importantly though, music and REM’s Automatic For The People in particular, helped me stay melancholic. Melancholy’s not bad when your only other option is hysteria.

Of course, my tests were negative. And that was the best news I’d heard all year. Have a safe and happy Christmas.

Olaf Tyaransen