You will be fine

Part of the reason Herpes is so damaging psychologically and emotionally, is because everyone is terrified to talk about it. The only time it’s mentioned these days is to scare people or to make slut jokes. So everyone hides, like the virus, in our own little spinal cords of shame. And don’t even get me started on the fact that facial cold sores are acceptable because “everyone gets them”. I never have gotten a cold sore on my mouth but guess what, same fucking thing. Herpes is herpes is herpes. You can give the one on your lip to your lover’s cooch or dick.

So after falling into a bad pattern of anxiety and depression, I called my best friend. I sobbed like a ginormous 20-something baby (I’m not proud of that part, but it had to come out) and explained what happened. He was so great to deal with the level of unstable I was at that point. He also told me he thought I might feel better if I told my family, as they were really worried about me and didn’t know what was going on. Uhh, no thanks. My parents are super relig and don’t think people should be having intercourse outside of the marital bed. This would just confirm that I was a serious fuck-up, a continuing disappointment, and made bad decisions.

After awhile though, he convinced me. I told my dad first, and I was crying before I even began. “Hey dad, I know you’ve noticed I haven’t exactly been myself lately. Well, something kinda bad happened. I got an STD.” The waterworks really kicked up. My dad just let out his breath slowly. “I was diagnosed with Herpes last week. I know I made a mistake but that’s where I am at.” He reached over and held my hand, “That is sad, I am sorry for you. And you are going to grieve for some time, it’s like a death in a small way. But you will be all right. Have you considered telling your mom?” He was taking it better than I could have anticipated, but the thought of telling my well-meaning but judgmental mother made me feel like my stomach was falling out of my butt. “I’m afraid she’ll be mean to me,” I said. “Well, I think you might reconsider, she could have more compassion than you think.”

I believe I ended up telling her over the phone, that’s how cowardly I was feeling. The first thing I said was “I’m going to tell you something bad and you have to promise you won’t say anything unkind.” Which, looking back, probably wasn’t the best way to start but I did the best I could. When I told her she ended up saying that she had a boyfriend when she was young who gave her three different STDs and that she just lucked out they were the kind that were treated and gone. I was totally shocked and felt a lot better.

I also ended up telling one of my siblings. At this time, I still choose not to tell the others and I haven’t told any of my friends beyond my bestie. I’ve thought about it numerous times but I’m not quite there yet. It’s frustrating, they would probably give me so much love and support, but I can’t stop that little voice in the back of my head that says that they won’t look at me the same, that they will not like me as much. Damaged goods. I have been single since my diagnosis (because, as uber crazy as it sounds, I still had some lingering feelings for the dude who passed me his Herp), so I haven’t had to tell any potential lovers. I can imagine it will suck, but oh fucking well. My friend said it best, everyone has something. Everyone has something they are dealing with, or worried people will find out about, or are ashamed of. This is my body in the attic. But you know what? It’s not a real body in the attic, so I have that going for me.

Maybe when the time comes, I will just send them to this blog, and they can read my experience …

You are fine

Let’s talk about my diagnosis. My HSV+ partner and I only had sex about six times total. One the last times we had sex, I had … erm, a sex injury. A sinjury, as my minister dad would probably call it. He misfired and I ended up with a perineal tear. So basically, a nice entrance for H to come in and make itself at home. Two days later I was feverish, passed out twice, in severe pain from the tear, super pale and felt like I had the flu. It was also the same time I started my cycle, and I figured the tear was being a real bastard. Another day or so I was in such pain I called my doctor, but I wanted to wait till I stopped menstruating before having her check it out. In the meantime I took myself to google and realized that Herpes and perineal tears often go hand in hand.

My doctor wasn’t available but another doctor at the same office was, so I went to her. I explained the tear (I believe the words I used were “He stabbed me with his penis.”) and that my partner had Herpes and I was concerned that I had contracted it. I told her I had checked things out and that all I could see was the tear. A mirror is your friend, ladies, know what things are supposed to look like downtown. She said it was a pretty serious one but that it should heal just fine. I asked (again!) about the Herp. She said “No, that’s not Herpes.” Me: “Ok, but how do you know?” Doc: “Because it looks nothing like it.” Oh. Then she proceeded to lecture me on rough sex and how she hoped I learned my lesson. Not. Fucking. Kidding.

How easy would it have been to just leave and say, “Nope, an M.D. said it’s not Herpes, guys!” But I have a soul so I went to MY doctor and got checked out again. She asked if he was big (average) and if we had always used a raincoat (absolutely). Then she felt a swollen lymph node in my pelvis. I didn’t need to go to Johns Hopkins to know that wasn’t good. Her lack of words was not reassuring. “You think I have it, don’t you?” I asked, surprisingly calm. “No, I didn’t say that, but I want to be sure. Have you seen any lesions?” Me: “No. Have YOU seen any lesions?” Doc: “No, but it manifests differently in different people.” She took blood and did a culture. I left there wondering how to make a week go by doubletime …

I sat in the parking lot before going in to the office. I recall thinking, “God, what a gorgeous day. I am either going to come back out here to my car devastated or ecstatic.” I pictured both. I went in. When I was sitting on the table, waiting for the doctor, I heard her outside the door picking up my chart. Her heard her say “Oh man.” under her breath. I knew I wouldn’t be leaving ecstatic but part of me still hoped. That’s the thing about women especially, we hope when all good reason for hope is gone. She came in and asked how I was healing, etc, formalities. Then, while still looking at the computer screen and all my info on it she said “Well, there was Herpes on the culture. So you are positive.”

“Fuck.”

Now she’s a cool Doctor and said “You probably feel like a pariah. I see a lot of people with this, from garbagemen to lawyers. You were a wonderful person before, and this hasn’t changed that. You won’t be able to have casual sex but you probably didn’t want to anyway. You will find a good relationship and someone who doesn’t care.” Then she hugged me. She’s a really nice lady. I left there with a one-sided piece of paper that was supposed to inform me about the virus I now have. I drifted out and got in my car and started driving the wrong way. About a block away I pulled over and thought I would burst into tears but I didn’t, I just felt numb. I called the guy I had been seeing. He assumed from how calm I was that I had gotten a negative result.

Later that night I fell apart and really didn’t stop for about a month or more. I thought I was having a nervous breakdown. I have an anxiety disorder, the guy wasn’t part of my life anymore, I was certain I would be alone forever, never have children (by natural homebirth, which I wanted), I would have to cover myself in saran wrap if I ever wanted to have sex again, I was a biohazard who would give Herpes to every single person I looked at, etc etc etc. My apartment started to close in on me. I know this seems dramatic, please keep in mind, 1) Anxiety, hello!, 2) Second lover OF MY LIFE, 3) Control freak who is now way out of control of this. That formula = Total devastation.

This is not your Mama’s Herpes blog

Ok, let’s get this out of the way. I was diagnosed with Genital Herpes in March, 2010. This is all new to me. I caught it from someone I knew had it, I took the risk anyway. I gambled and lost. Trust me, I have been through every emotion under the sun since then. I really liked this guy, and prided myself on thinking about it carefully, doing research, using protection, etc. Guess what, got it anyway. On top of this, the guy turned out to be a bad egg. Real bad. Mind you, this was only my second sexual partner ever. I mean it, cats, I’m not one of those “but handjobs don’t count” gals. SECOND, period.

I am working on several things now 1) Coming to terms with this virus while not getting totally cynical (I was a pretty Naive Nancy, I guess), 2) And, don’t laugh, curing it.

Before you head back to DListed or FB and write me off as a whackjob, I fully realize there is “no cure” for the Herp. Believe me EVERYONE has already said it. And the people who aren’t saying it are usually trying to sell you something crazy. But I’m a great believer in the human body. It’s pretty fucking amazing, wouldn’t you say? I’ve been doing non-stop research since I contracted this and it seems to me like the only certainty with H is that NO ONE really understands it. So maybe I live with it forever, and deal with OBs. Maybe I get it to the point where I don’t have OBs ever. And possibly, I get to the point where I get a Western Blot Test, and find, I don’t have it anymore.

So I’m going to post on here my findings as much as I can. I’m not giving any fucking medical advice to anyone, I just think we need to start being a lot more open (something I’m struggling with still) and honest about this. Does it suck? Totes McGotes. Do I wish I didn’t have it? You betcha. However, not doing anything about it isn’t my style, and I’m sure as hell not going to let it stop my life. I already tried that angle and it didn’t really work for me.

But really, when I find myself engaging in that lovely little warm, sucky, mudpuddle of self-pity, I start counting fingers and toes, organs, or even running stats (I’m in a room with __ people, that means __ here have it whether they know it or not). Then I get my ass in gear and go do some yoga or a spin class. There is nothing like working out to burn through that wretchedness.

So let’s pick ourselves up by our bootstraps, shall we,      and see what we can find? There are going to be a lot of  links, some bad days, and I will probably make  mistakes. Please share  info, that’s the only way we can  all move forward with  this. Also, check out  www.lazertits.com for more photos like this awesome  blossom.