jawnbc | that's where you'll find me (3 things)

The waiting room was an education in-and-of itself. My first gay doctor never seemed to have anyone else in his waiting room--not even a receptionist. He was also slightly lecherous, which, to my 23 year old newly out self felt like sexual assault. Eventually someone I volunteered with at the gay switchboard got me on with this doctor.

The receptionists were sexy, swishy, charming bearish men. As part of the intake we discussed HIV testing and how it's managed. Back then the NYC Department of Public Health wouldn't do anonymous testing; seven years into the (known) epidemic already a clever work-around was in place. "You'll be Judy Patrick Garland" I was informed: the combination of date of birth and my middle name straddled the line between anonymity and knowing who the fuck's blood it was rather cleverly. Bear in mind this was the Reagan years--and a milieu where the only words that rivalled "HIV positive" for scariness was "insurance declined due to pre-existing condition."

In 1987 I was only started to get comfortable with swishiness, but these guys put me totally at ease. That was education part one. Education part two was the other guys in the waiting room. OMFG so many hawt hawt men. Leathermen? A couple of those. Guppies? Lots. So much hawtness. Nearly all of whom were, at first glance, smoking bongs. Turns out they were taking prophylaxis (preventative) treatment for PCP pneumonia--one of the major opportunistic infections for persons with AIDS (PWAs). Education part two was no, really...you can't tell if someone has AIDS by the way they look. Maybe two of the guys looked like "AIDS patients." The rest merely looked out of my league.

This doctor was a dyke who was one of a handful of doctors shouldering the AIDS case load. Lesbians stepping up for us fags wasn't at all unusual: sadly I still don't see a lot of guys working to fight things like breast cancer. Like every other "AIDS doctor" in NYC she was overworked and over-committed: I was told to expect to wait up to an hour, and that proved to be exactly how long it took to get into an examining room. Then it was 10 minutes before the doctor came in.

Who didn't look like a dyke. Yeah, I know, but there was certainly a few archetypal dyke looks in the City™ back then: glamazon, girljock, sexmafia, and diesel. The doctor looked, well, straight. Turns out she was: she was the "real" doctor's sister, also a physician, but one who primarily worked in biomedical research and was "helping out." Lovely woman, not really a clinician, and not really knowing much about gay men's health. I was there because of a dull, increasing ache in my bum. Which I was pretty sure was my prostate.

So Sister Doctor did all the requisite bits, then got in the position. *Snap* of a glove, *splurt* of some lube, a probably too gently pressing into me. During the exam it felt uncomfortable and heavy more than painful. She was kind of lost, and thank Gawd she was ethical enough to say "I don't really know what to do: let me see if my sister has a free moment." She left, I stayed facing the wall and kind of zoned out.

I heard the door open and two women discussing me. Then that *snap* sound again--much faster and confident this time--a *splurt* and *zoom* she was in me. And then out. It felt more than weird to be penetrated by the invisible lesbian so I broke with protocol and rolled (sort of) onto my back: ah yes, diesel, of this I can make meaning. "Yup chronic prostatitis, and yup regular antibiotics often don't cut it. Some of my guys have found Bactrim* helped so we're gonna put you on that. But it's gonna for a while, maybe even a couple of months. OK?"

OK. I left with a script and receipt for my insurance. And an appointment in 3 weeks for a follow-up (HIV results, negative, and check-in about my bum, slowly improving). And in 2 months all was...almost entirely normal, though the Bactrim had some wacky side-effects...fever spikes, dry mouth, affinity for show tunes. All of which eventually cleared up on their own.

The third thing I learned? That we are a community. Boys and girls, fag and dykes and bi (and later trans). When we want to be, when we try to be.

*Bactrim a sulpha drug used to treat infections before antibiotics were widely available