As HIV rates rise more students are flocking to health centers to get tested

Story by Mark Cina

As I placed the testing stick in my mouth, a series of anxieties and questions flooded through my head, but mostly it was: What if it comes up positive? I didn’t know what to think taking my first HIV/AIDS test that cold winter morning.

Up to this point, I had put myself at risk a couple times, but an HIV/AIDS test never seemed like an option to me. HIV/AIDS seemed like something that happened to other people, not a Kent State journalism student. But as I dialed the number to Student Health Promotion — 6… 7… 2... — to schedule the test, it never seemed so real.

I took the test two days later at the DeWeese Health Center. It was cold, and I just wanted to get it over. I wondered whether I’d see anyone I knew.

I sat down in the waiting area across from another student who, like me, looked embarrassed and didn’t make eye contact. Most of the other sign-ins were between 18 and 22. I sat still and kept quiet and filled out a self-assessment form about my sexual history: Was a condom used during vaginal sex during the past 12 months? Was a condom used when you put your penis in someone’s rectum during the past 12 months? Was a condom used when you performed oral sex during the past 12 months? How many sexual partners have you had during the past 12 months?

The final question jumped out: If you test positive, would you like help notifying your partner?

IF YOU TEST POSITIVE.
IF YOU TEST POSITIVE.
IF YOU TEST POSITIVE.

I checked the “not sure” box. I thought of any way I could have contracted the disease. Maybe I had kissed too deeply. Maybe I had had a cut in my mouth and hadn’t known.

Every sexual activity I had participated in kept revolving in my head. It hit me then that I could have the disease. What would I do?

Even though I had waited only 15 minutes, it seemed longer. I kept staring at the strand of yellow light coming through the crack at the bottom of the door where another student was being tested.

“Ready?” The counselor appeared at the door.

I walked into the small white room that reminded me of the nurse’s office at my high school. Some condoms and lubricants were in a container on a table in the corner along with pamphlets on HIV/AIDS and other sexually transmitted diseases.

The counselor, a friendly man who had been conducting tests at colleges and universities for the past year, asked me why I had come for the test. He asked other questions about my hobbies and classes to relax me.
I wasn’t nervous during the test, and I was surprised that no blood was drawn. Instead, I just slipped a lollipop-like gadget called OraSure into the bottom of my mouth and placed it next to my gum.

The test would take a sample from my gum and determine from my cells whether I had the disease. I could even talk while I tested.

The counselor and I talked about films I had seen and then played a game in which I drew five cards and had to answer “stop” (for no), “slow” (for maybe) and “go” (for yes) in terms of my behavior. “Share a razor,” the card read. “Stop,” I said.

The test was over within 15 minutes. I pulled the device out of my mouth, handed it to the counselor and got my code number. One week for the results. Thursday, 1:05 p.m. I didn’t think about it as I walked to class.

Not then anyway.