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The other day I had an HIV test, and to be honest it didn't go quite as I'd expected.
I thought I'd blow in, bullish and confident. I thought I'd get the prick in my finger, I'd bleed a few drops and leave bullish and confident with a resounding negative result.
I was a bit wrong.
Freshly published research from Otago University's Dr Peter Saxton suggests one in five HIV positive gay and bisexual men in Auckland don't actually know they have the virus.
I know that's all a bit of a mouthful and a few people have incorrectly misinterpreted those statistics to think 20% of gay men have the disease. So let's spell it out.
There are many thousands of gay and bisexual men in Auckland. Roughly one in 15 is HIV positive. And of those HIV positive men, about one in five don't know it.
For someone who knows very little about statistics and even less about HIV, those numbers seem concerning.
After all, a person who doesn't realise they have HIV is surely more at risk of passing it on and, though the numbers are apparently low by international standards, the Aids Foundation and various health agencies are urging homosexual men in particular to be regularly checked.
But I decided to do it as well. I'd never had a test before. I had no real reason to suspect I had been exposed to HIV.
I just thought it would be a good thing to see just how fast and easy it all can be.
In a small consultation room at Body Positive - an Auckland support group for men living with HIV - the CEO Bruce Kilmister gloved up and swabbed my finger.
Unfortunately for Bruce, my hands have the circulation of a cadaver and it took rather considerable encouragement to bleed, but with some enthusiastic squeezing, he collected enough red stuff and filled the vile.
"Just out of interest, given we're filming this, what do you want me to do if it's a Positive result?" he asked.
I hadn't really thought about that.
"Ohhh, I guess just tell me. Yeah I guess that's best."
We filmed. We did what we needed to do and packed up to leave Bruce on his way. It was actually only as we shuffled out of the office that I remembered.
"Ohh, what was the result?" I asked Bruce. He paused, just for a fraction. Looked down.
"Oh. Umm.. are you about this afternoon?"
"Ahhhhh.. yeeeah..?"
"Right. Well look maybe we can have a talk later on eh, after you've filmed your story."
"What?! Nah just tell me. What's up?"
"Look, let's talk this afternoon eh, get your work done first."
Bruce looked earnest. Really earnest. He glanced behind me and my stomach twisted. With a snatch of the tripod, the cameraman I was working with swept up our gear and bundled down the stairs.
I turned back to Bruce.
"Bugger that, can you talk to me now?" I asked.
It wasn't really a question, more a formality. I was walking back into that office and shutting the door before I had even finished the words.
Bruce was still standing. He paused again.
"That feeling.. that's the feeling. Now times it by a thousand and you'll know how anxious some people would be waiting for their results. And imagine.. imagine how hard it must be for people who discover they're positive."
Sh**.
"You're not. You're negative, you're fine. We don't usually do that, I just thought it might be valuable for you to feel that dreadful feeling, if only for a moment."
Valuable, all right. What a lesson.
I could feel that pin prick on the middle finger of my left hand. It was throbbing. Everything was.
In 2012 HIV is more treatable than ever. But for all the wonders of modern medicine, safe sex is still the best prevention. And of course, for HIV to be treated it has to first be diagnosed.
I entered bullish and confident, I left humbled. I'm so glad I went at all.
