Hallelujah

I tested negative. Whew! Yippee!!

It’s what I was expecting, but it was good to have it confirmed. I hadn’t been thinking about it much during the past two weeks, in order to preserve my sanity, but I had trouble sleeping last night, and I was antsy all day today. My appointment was after work; I should have just made it in the morning and got it over with. To be honest, I don’t know if I was more scared of getting the results or of returning to the area where I got mugged. A little of both.

The whole appointment was a blur. I think part of my brain had gone into dream-mode beforehand in order to protect itself. The woman who gave me my results was different from the woman who’d taken the test; this was a well-dressed black woman. I was in the waiting room, the only person there. I saw her pick up a manila folder and she said, “Let’s go into my office.” I started to panic slightly, because I thought, why is she making this so serious? What does this mean? We went into the office and she said, “It’s kinda smelly in here,” so I followed her into a different office. What’s with the small talk? Just give me my results!

She had me sit in a chair next to the desk, then she sat down, and then she said, “Okay… Your test came back negative.” I let out a huge sigh of relief. “Thank god,” I said. All the tension drained from my body instantly, and suddenly I wanted to give her a hug. I said, “I feel like giving you a hug… can I give you a hug?” She smiled and said sure, so I did. Then we talked for another five minutes, and for some reason I switched into journalism mode and asked her why she was in this field, although I didn’t much listen to her answer because I just wanted to get out of there. I mentioned I’d been mugged last time on my way back to the train station, and I asked if they could call me a cab. She said that they could, but that if I went outside and waited on the corner, the bus would come pretty soon. Since it was still light out (yay, Daylight Savings Time), I figured that was okay.

So I left the building, waited nervously for the bus while eyeing everyone nearby, the bus came, and I rode it back to the train station. Went into the station and vowed never to get off at that PATH stop again if I can avoid doing so.

In a strange way this has even eased the aftermath of being mugged. For the last two weeks, in the back of my mind, I’ve known I’d have to return to that area. Now I can leave it behind me.

And now that my two-week wait is over, I can start focusing more earnestly again on something more ordinary, more complicated: living.