The New Sense

Friday, May 10, 2002

STD test. In an hour. Olga's looking at me funny. She knows something is up, but for some reason her alcohol-fuelled soul microscope isn't working properly, so I escape an examination.
On the bus to the clinic I started to feel weird. It had started to rain as soon as I left the bar. I knew the ride along Sherbrooke would be long, but it seemed to take forever. I guess that's what contemplating non-existence does for you. It's like B— was saying when he was talking about Forever sitting on the wall with him. Maybe I had nonever sitting next to me on the bus. Unever. Notever. Whatever the appropriate word is for the lack of me in the universe. Saraless? If the test turns out positive, Earth will be facing a saraless existence.
I remember Stephen Hawking explaining black holes in that movie of his. I was fascinated by the concept of the Event Horizon – the limit beyond which nothing, not even light can escape, and which makes the hole black. From what I remember, at the Event Horizon time slows down and is stretched to infinity. Maybe that's what happens when you die. Maybe your last second lasts for eternity. Maybe that's what eternal life is all about. Maybe everyone does have it without even going to heaven or anything. It's just the long last moment. And the bus ride was a taste of it.
I was doing the never-again thing all the way up the steps into the clinic. Why risk my life like that? It's pathetic, but B— just makes me want to be so close to him so that a tenth of a millimetre of rubber is like a brick wall…
In the waiting room I was so sure the test would be positive that I started the, 'Oh, well, I've had a good life' routine in my mind. 'Lots of people die younger than me. Lots of people have shitty lives and die younger than me. Lots of animals have worse lives than the people who have shitty lives and die younger than me. Life could have been much worse. I could have been a caterpillar put in a jar, never to break out from my chrysalis. I could have been a baby fish eaten a minute after being born. I could have been forced into slavery as a child. I could have been the woman with the harmonica on Prince Arthur. I could have been the dead guy from Milli Vanilli.'
Still waiting. Out of 'I could have beens'. Now I turned my thoughts to what I would do with the last year or so of my life. I'd spend at least a month with mom, trying to explain to her that I had to travel, had to experience life to the fullest while I was still capable. She'd cry and say that she understood, but still do the guilt trip thing. She'd probably get sick about a week before I was due to leave.
I would start by doing a Thelma and Louise trek across the States with Kelly. Then I'd take a plane to Hawaii and visit a volcano. No, maybe I'd go down to the Amazon first and then explore the lost lands of the Incas and Aztecs. Oh, yeah – the Galapagos Islands are a must. Then Hawaii, then Japan. No, Australia.
At that point the nurse took me in to take some blood. It looked normal. I couldn't see any signs of infection, so I started to feel a bit braver. AIDS-infected blood must look much more ketchupy than that. Of course I didn't have AIDS. How could I, Sara Sam, possibly end up as a meaningless statistic? Or, conversely, be the central character in a melodrama. No, I just don't have it in me. I'm pretty sure I'm going to plod through life without much to write home about.
Anyway, back on the bus now, full of bravado. Results in a week. Gotta get B— to take a test, because I know what will happen if I'm negative…I'll just do it again.

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