Herpes Schmerpes

October 1, 2021

Today marks two weeks since I got my positive herpes diagnosis. It’s my herpesversary!

I was talking to a friend about why I decided to write publicly about having herpes.

“I shout I have bipolar from the rooftops,” I explained. “Compared to mental illness, herpes is like a mosquito bite versus being devoured by a fire eating dragon,” I said.

Yep. Pretty much sums it up. Pretty much puts things into perspective.

I’m 58. I made it to 58. That’s a miracle. I struggle with mental illness every minute of my life. When I got a positive herpes diagnosis, it was like being thrown from a speeding train. It knocked the wind out of me. I couldn’t breathe. My chest was a band of metal tight, and I thought for sure the knowledge of it would kill me. But some hours passed, and then some days passed, and now two weeks have passed, and I’m alive. I have herpes. And I’m still alive.

For many days after I read that positive herpes lab result on my fucking patient portal at 10:30 pm on a Friday night, immediately followed by my frantic attempts to reach the on call doctor who took an hour and a half to get back to me, the on call doctor who was annoyed at my hysteria and… well… I’m getting a bit off track here. Because I am not a victim. He was just a nitwit.