Aaaah. I'll keep this extraordinarily short and sweet. The results from my much ballyhooed trip to the Free Clinic were ready today. I was instructed to call in between 3:05 and 3:30. After having a horrific dream last night and finding out today is coincidentally National AIDS Awareness Day I feared the worst. By the time 3:05 rolled around and my phone chimed an awful tune to remind me of my civic duty to make the dreaded call, I was certain Jimmy and the Twins were set to fall off in a muck puddle momentarily.
I hesitantly but quite diligently and immediately made the call. My pulse throbbed steadily in my ears like shitty house music in an Armenian club. Literally pounding. A so-called phone appointment nurse picked up the phone, took my case number and replied, "Oh...hold on one second," and quickly placed me on hold. Double-You Tee Eff? Gulp.
A second nurse saved me from the droning, nauseating hold music. Was this some sort of grief counselor? Good Lord. She cleared her throat, then achingly and methodically went through the list of all possible sex yuckies I'd been tested for. Clean! Across the board! Hoo Fucking Ray! Yay!
Man! My stress levels went from through the roof to down into the wine cellar look for a good Pinot, y'all. Yay.
I thanked the good nurse for the stupendous news. Life is good. Yay. Clean. Yay. Jackpot! Yay. Yay. Yay. Yay. Can I say yay one last time? Thanks. Yay.
Getting tested sucks. But getting a clean bill o' health is a joy. Do it. Yay.
