STDs: the only test you hope you fail

According to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, there are two surefire ways to avoid getting sexually transmitted diseases.

The first, abstinence, proved pretty easy for most of my life. I was good at it, even when I didn’t want to be.

The second — “a long-term mutually monogamous relationship with a partner who has been tested and is known to be uninfected” — was harder to come by.

That’s a lot of criteria. And, once such a relationship is established, it involves upholding your end of the deal, which means getting tested.

A friend directed me to the Orange County Health Department, which offers free testing in Chapel Hill. I called 968-2022 to schedule an appointment. It’s a popular service in the area. They couldn’t take me for two weeks.

The place is on Homestead Road, all the way down MLK. The T bus runs from Franklin down that way, stops at the bottom of Homestead.

It’s an awkward experience, the STD clinic. I walked past the families in the lobby, offering my best look of “I’m clean, I know I’m clean, I’m just here to make sure.”

The “Client Self-History” form is an open confession booth. I felt silly when I caught myself holding my fingers in the air, a visible sign I was stuck on question 7: Total number of male/female partners.

They tested me for HIV, syphilis and gonorrhea. They gave me a physical examination to check for genital warts. Only, they didn’t test me for herpes.

“Tissue culture for symptomatic clients only.”

I didn’t understand. I’d come to make sure I didn’t have a lot of things, and herpes was the main attraction. That’s the one that affects one in five Americans, and, unlike gonorrhea, it’s incurable.

I tried to reason with the nurses. No, I didn’t have symptoms, but neither do most people who have the disease. An estimated 90 percent of people who have herpes don’t know they have it.

The nurses said I needed to have symptoms, sores from which they could take a sample and run a cell culture.

I told them to just give me a blood test. They said they didn’t offer that. It’s too expensive. The state won’t pay for it, nor will the federal government. The nurses nodded, acknowledging they thought the state should allocate funds for the proper testing.

It all seems counterproductive. The Centers for Disease Control says herpes can increase one’s chances of getting HIV and can make those with HIV more infectious. Getting tested is important, because herpes can occur in genital areas not protected by a condom.

And yet, the money isn’t there.

At Campus Health Services, herpes tests can run $150. Most people wouldn’t pay that; I wouldn’t. But they said my student health insurance would cover it.

At the clinic, I waited for the results from my gonorrhea test.

The room was plastered with outdated posters. Little cartoon figures on one from 1987 showed how AIDS can spread. “Jill finally got to go out with the captain of the team. Jill finally got AIDS, too.”

The nurse came back in. She was holding a brown paper bag neatly folded shut. It looked like the kind they use for medication.

I shot up. “No, no, no.”

The nurse was startled, and then saw me looking at the bag and smiled. “Oh no, you’re fine. Negative. These are just condoms.”