The Beginning of the End
It was a chill summer day, and I thought I was doing pretty good. No stress, no arguments, no work. My husband had to work, but that just meant I could clean and make his favorite dinner for when he came home. And he did—come home—but something was different. It had been three weeks of not touching one another, so I had plans to make that happen after dinner. I pursued, but my efforts were denied. Frustrated and a little hurt, I lashed out. “ARE WE EVEN A COUPLE ANYMORE?” “WHY WON’T YOU TOUCH ME THEN?” “IS THERE SOMEONE ELSE?” Then it came out.
“I AM ON ANTIBIOTICS OKAYY!”
I stopped in my tracks. What did that mean? Why does that affect our intimacy? He went on to tell me that he had slept with someone else and had what looked to be a rash in his private area. I was PISSED, but there was nothing I could do. He had already taken care of it all, and I just had to wait. So I did. A few more weeks went by, and I noticed that rash had crept to his arms. He said that he thought it was poison oak, and that he was going to see the doctor. I didn’t think anything of it. I loved him so much that even when I didn’t feel secure, I still let him in. We made love, and he went to the doctor. I continued on about my day, but something just kept nagging me. Something wasn’t right.
He calls after his appointment and tells me. “Please don’t be mad baby. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I thought I just had a bad reaction which was cause for my antibiotics, but it was actually the first stage of syphilis.”
“FIRST STAGE? WHAT DOES THAT MEAN?”
He continued on with his story and told me what the doctor told him. This particular STD has 4 different stages, and the rashes on his arm were stage two. Since I didn’t know what any of this meant, I just demanded he take me to the doctor. Once we were there it was a flurry of tests, blood draws, awkward looks, and the painful administration of medicine in places where the sun doesn’t shine. Also, no sex for a week. I just remember feeling numb. Not mad, not sad, not embarrassed. Just numb. I loved a man, I was faithful, and it still bit me in the ass. I wish I could say that was the end of us, but it wasn’t. It wasn’t my last trip to the doctor either. Over our time together I had trichomoniasis a few times, a flurry of Bacterial Vaginosis cases, one miscarriage, and a lot of battle scars. My one piece of advice to my old self would be: pay attention. Love is love, and love doesn’t hurt that bad, or at least it shouldn’t anyway.