Life stories: The toughest test of all

It has been six years since I was last tested for HIV. This is the kind of activity that is easily put off, sometimes indefinitely. But for all those who are sexually active, of any persuasion, the risks of infection are omnipresent. Not just with HIV, but with other diseases such as gonorrhoea, syphilis, herpes and chlamydia. Not the kind of words that one would choose to utter as sweet nothings during that moment of unbridled passion, especially when you are too high, too drunk, too into living dangerously to slap on a condom. We have all been there.

I had my concerns six years ago, as I do now (I'd like to add my last test was negative). Casual boyfriends, one night stands, a partner from the African continent. Some safe, some not. I've been meaning to go for another test for some time and feel angry with myself for having avoided it. I should know better. Not only have I suffered from a bad clout of chlamydia-related Pelvic Inflammatory Disease (PID), but I've been through the heartache of seeing a close friend diagnosed HIV positive, having taken him for a test after he collapsed on my doorstep four years ago a shivering bag of bones, panic-ridden and unable to speak. The doctor said if he had left it any later he would've been dead. With the support and drugs now available he is a picture of health, if a little chubby. He is expected to live a full life for the next 20 years. A great reason for getting that test in early, quite apart from your responsibility to all those partners you have yet to meet.

I went for a test this morning at 8am. The clinic hadn't yet opened when I arrived and there was a queue outside. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't crapping myself. I felt ashamed and afraid of being spotted by someone I knew, but once I had registered and was seated, those feelings vanished. We were all in the same boat, after all.

As I waited, my partners from the last six years materialised before me, as did memories of those drunken flings and fly-by-night romances. It took an hour before I was seen by a doctor, who then probed into my sexual history and drug use before referring me to a counsellor - admitting to not having had sex for eight months was probably the most humiliating part. Being in a low-risk group - white heterosexual female, with no history of intravenous drug use - I was swiftly sent for a blood sample which was simple and over in seconds. A bit like my last boyfriend.

Not such an ordeal, but I have to wait two weeks for the results, which will be nerve-wrecking. Six years ago the results took an hour - many clinics offer this service - and it was the longest hour of my life. I was dizzy, tearful and nauseous. But when the results came back negative, the feeling of having a fresh and clean slate to move forward with was overwhelming. It was one of the happiest days of my life. This time, whatever the outcome, I know I have been brave and done the right thing. Take my word for it, it is better to know.

Tomorrow is World Aids Day. For your nearest clinic call NHS direct: 0845 4647

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