Come to grips with contracting HPV

Went for a follow up Doctor Appointment this morning.

There was one spot that he thought my be another wart, but then he talked himself out of it, and decided it was just a natural fold in the skin. Tricky area down there since there are so many folds and wrinkles.

So he decided I was “clean,” but told me to keep an eye on everything and come back if I see anything that is even remotely questionable.

So I guess that’s my last doctor appointment, unless the warts come back. Woo Hoo!

Gawd, what a humiliating experience this whole thing has been.

I’m typing this from my phone while I wait for my truck to get an oil change, so it will be interesting to see if it’s at all coherent:

Anyway, when I was diagnosed with HPV the doctor told me that (since there was no way of knowing how long I have been carrying the virus) I should contact all my previous lovers and tell them to get themselves checked next time they go for a pap smear.

I only have contact with two exes: my ex-wife, and a girl I dated for awhile who is now a good friend…”J.”
There is really no point in telling my ex-wife. She was my first, so I couldn’t have given it to her, and if she has it and gave it to me, well…what would be the point in opening up old wounds?

So last night J called me, and we chatted for awhile. During the whole conversation I was fighting an internal battle on whether or not to tell her about the HPV. Finally though, I decided to get it off my chest. It was probably one of top five most uncomfortable conversations in my life.

At first she was really quiet (which is odd for her…she’s a talker), and I could tell she was somewhat freaked out. She was also a bit miffed that I hadn’t told her sooner, because she just had a gynecology appointment last week. But by the time I was done, and answered the questions I COULD answer, she seemed okay. I apologized for stressing her out, and she said she wasn’t going to stress about it. She’d just keep it in the back of her mind as food for thought in the event she discovered anything unusual “down there.”

All in all, I don’t know if telling her was the right decision. What was the point in stressing her out about something that is unknowable? It’s not like she can go get a blood test to determine if she has it. And she’ll never know if she has it unless a wart shows up. I don’t know. It’s done now. Can’t say I feel better. Don’t feel any worse either, and now I’ve potentially burdened someone else.

I had a follow up appointment on Monday June 4th.

So the good news is that things are looking good. The treatment (both the freezing with the liquid nitrogen and the ointment I’m using 3 times a week) seem to be doing the job. The doctor used the liquid nitrogen on two more spots (Ouch!) while I was there in order to “err on the side of caution.”

The bad news is I left rather annoyed. I was trying to get some peace of mind by asking more questions about HPV in general, and didn’t really get satisfactory answers. Mainly, I asked if I could find out what strain of the virus I had.

My theory was, IF I end up ever having the “Hey I have a communicable incurable illness” talk with a woman in the future, and she HAD taken the HPV vaccine, I could tell her what strain I had, so she would know if it was one of the ones that the vaccine took care of.

Anyway, he was baffled by my request. He said, when they send the sample to the lab they’re just checking for confirmation that it is HPV, and that it’s not cancerous. He said they don’t usually “type it” for men. They do for women, because for them it is a much more serious problem and more prone to cancer. He kept saying that it doesn’t matter what strain I had, the treatments were the same, and that no matter what, ALL women SHOULD be taking the vaccine. I really don’t think he understands why I’m so upset by finding out I have genital warts. Although he didn’t use these exact words, he pretty much said, “it’s no big deal, everyone has it.”

He did add that if the warts come back after this treatment, he could send another sample to the lab then, and get it typed, but he was utterly baffled by my request, and warned me that my insurance likely wouldn’t cover it.

I’ve noticed similar statements from some 43Things members in response to my earlier posts. One of my friends also just shrugged, and said I was over-reacting.

Why is it that I seem to be the only one who cares that I am infected with a potentially incurable illness that I could pass to someone else? Why is everyone so cavalier about this? It’s easy for people to say, “Oh…Brian, you’re blowing this out of proportion. Practically everybody has it anyway, and there’s a vaccine, so stop worrying” when you don’t have it.

You know what? If you don’t have it, or something similar, than don’t bother giving me useless advice. Maybe I am blowing this out of proportion. But if you don’t have the same problem, then you have no place telling me that I am. Just let me blow off steam by writing down my thoughts, and quell that urge to offer advice. Thanks.

I’m sorry, but I view this as pretty damn serious. There isn’t a cure for this yet, and I don’t want to be responsible for passing it to someone else. Why is that so fucking hard for everyone to understand?

Okay…venting done. Back to Happy Brian now.

Next follow up is at the end of July.

I feel the urge to clarify that I’m not a “player.” My number of lovers are still in the single digits. And with the exception of two women, I’ve always worn a condom. One of those women I was married to, and the other one I THOUGHT was going to be a long term thing. We were practically living together.

I won’t say I’m a complete angel though. After my divorce, I was celibate for a few years, and then finally broke the streak with a one night stand.

But I’ve had feelings for every other woman I’ve ever been intimate with.

Maybe that’s one of the reasons this whole thing bugs me so much. I was a late bloomer in the world of sex (with a partner anyway…LOL), and I confess that I wasn’t very good at it while I was married. But damn…in recent years I really felt like I was finally getting good at it. I can honestly say I’ve “curled a few toes” in my time.

The whole act of turning a girl on, teasing her, and then being the catalyst to her orgasm, was actually better than having my own orgasm. I’m going to miss that.

Part of me wishes I HAD been a player. At least then I could look back on life and say in a manly way…”Yeah…I got an STD, but at least I got to bang 30 or 40 chicks first!”

I was out shooting pool with a good friend last night. In a previous conversation we had, I had already given him enough hints that he pretty much knew already, but sitting down and actually having a conversation about it was good…..I think. It was weird, but at the same time felt like a bit of weight was lifted.

He told me to stop thinking in terms of never having sex again, or never having a relationship again. He told me just to “take a break” for a year. When the year is up, THEN re-evaluate how I feel about it.

I don’t know…he may be right. I think I often allow myself to take things to extremes, rather than taking things as small parts of a whole.

Either way…I need to focus my energies somewhere other than finding a woman. But where?

So I know that as far as STD’s go, this one is pretty tame. It could be worse right? Could have been HIV. Could have been herpes.

But the thing is, I still feel like my love life is over. I just don’t think I can in good conscious ever have sex with a woman again, without telling her that I COULD give her this virus. And when exactly do you bring up something like this?

First date? She’ll run away so fast, it’ll be like watching a Looney Toons character with the spinning legs as she tries to get traction.

Second date? She’ll probably choke on her chicken parmigiana, as she searches for the nearest exit.

Third date? Hell, if we haven’t at least shared a kiss by now, there probably isn’t any chemistry anyway. And you never know where a kiss will lead, so if we don’t talk about it by now…it could already be to late. Would I be strong enough to stop in the middle of being intimate and say…”Um…I have something I need to tell you first?”

I honestly just can’t imagine ever having this conversation with someone.

So…bad news: My love life is over.

Good news: Dating isn’t cheap, so I guess I’m going to save a lot of money. Also, I guess I no longer have to work on attracting a woman. Hell, I can become an old cantankerous fat guy now. Who’s gonna care?

About a week after the first diagnosis, I went for the first treatment. Uh…let me just say, having someone spray liquid nitrogen on your genitals….Not a good party game!

He also prescribed some ointment that is supposed to “annoy” the warts and make them go away.

Shortly after dropping the prescription off at the Walmart pharmacy, they called me to ask if I wanted to check if the doctor would be okay with generic. I asked why, and they said:
– This specific brand would have to be special ordered and would take another day to get
– My co-pay would be $120

So after having a frustrating time trying to get someone at the doctor’s office to call me back, they finally confirmed that generic would be okay, and faxed the new prescription to the pharmacy.

Well…even the generic cost me a $65 co-pay. Shit!! Most times it’s $15. Another fuckin’ reason this sucks. I’m gonna go broke paying for all this shit.

So I’m supposed to use the ointment 3 times a week, and go back in 4 weeks.

The doctor’s appointment was mildly humiliating. He examined me, and his visual diagnosis confirmed my fears. Although, strangely, he also confirmed that the first bump I had discovered was indeed a skin tag. The warts were the bumps on my shaft.

He numbed things up down there with a needle. Not nearly as terrifying as it sounds, but still quite unpleasant, and then he cut away part of one of the warts to send to the lab for confirmation that it was Human Papillomavirus (HPV), also known as genital warts. I believe the lab was also supposed to confirm that it was not cancerous.

He also confirmed several things I read online:
– A condom isn’t much value in protecting against HPV, as all it takes is skin to skin contact to transmit it, and obviously a condom doesn’t cover everything.
– Supposedly something like 75% of the population has this, but most don’t even know it (kind of a worthless statistic if I ever heard one…how do the fucking statisticians know someone has genital warts if the afflicted don’t know themselves?).
– There is no way of know how long I’ve had the HPV virus. I could have gotten it from my first lover, or my last. Just because the actual warts finally made an appearance, doesn’t mean I JUST got it. I could have had it for YEARS.
– Even when the warts have been removed, there is a possibility that I could still pass the HPV virus onto someone else. There is no guarantee that it is gone, but also no guarantee that it isn’t gone. He was obviously trying to make me feel better, by telling me that I could still have a normal love life, but it just sounded like an excuse to not tell a potential partner. Kinda makes you realize why so many people have it. Apparently people who get it, get it treated, and then delude themselves into thinking it’s completely gone, just because they have no visible warts…and boom…they pass it to someone else.

Anyway…between the confirmation of my fears, and the small incision on my penis…NOT A GOOD DAY.

Well…not a good couple weeks. I’m pretty sure I already suffer from mild depression, and this certainly didn’t do me any favors. I was in a very dark place for awhile there.

So about four weeks ago, I found a small bump on one of my testicles. My immediate reaction was, “Oh Fuck!!” I assumed it was a genital wart. Then I calmed down and decided it was just a skin tag. I get skin tags all the time, and just figured this was another one.

Then in the coming days, the skin tag kept rubbing an irritation on the shaft of my penis.

Upon further investigation, I found some more bumps on my shaft. After some online research, it was rather apparent that my original fear wasn’t unfounded. There really was nothing else it could be. I had genital warts.

I was going to make an appointment with a dermatologist to get some of the more annoying skin tags on my face, neck, and shoulders removed anyway, so when I called to make that appointment, I inquired if the doctor could check me for genital warts. The lady I spoke with on the phone confirmed, and the appointment was made.

This shall be my (somewhat) daily log of how I’m feeling since finding out that I have HPV. It might be somewhat graphic. I really don’t know. I’m just going to go with the flow. Whatever my fingers type will end up here.

I’m hoping that two main things will come of this. One, if I force myself to be brutally honest here, it will leak into my normal life, and I will never be tempted to “forget” that there is a possibility (however slim it is) that I COULD pass this to someone else. Two, that if I “talk” about it here, I’ll gain some cathartic release, and will eventually lose the anger, frustration, fear, and self-pity that has come with contracting an STD.