Smelly New York

There are lots of smells in New York City. You walk by a pile of trash. Or somewhere where someone has recently urinated. You know. But rarely do you actually see New Yorkers reacting to the smell. You just sort of come to expect it. 

Today, I managed to get on two different train cars that had such offensive and strong stenches that people actually reacted. 

The first was this morning. The nature of this smell was, to my best knowledge, urine. Maybe mixed with body odor. It was fairly obvious that the unwashed, sun-darkened man at one end of the car was likely responsible for this delightful mixture. It wafted occasionally into my nose and I must admit, I felt a bit sick, which I usually don’t. It was high on the list of strongest smells I’ve experienced here. 

But this evening was no doubt the worst smell experience of my New York life. 

Imagine someone took a smelly shit in a train car, then let it sit there. That was the smell. Like I said, never before have I seen people visibly react to a smell. But in this car, I saw at least 4 people covering their noses. It was stench for sure. One stop later (luckily mine), most of the car got out and the woman in front of me warned a couple about to board the car that it would not be a pleasant experience. They smelled it and thanked her. This was out of the ordinary. 

I’m happily on a different train at the moment, one that lacks any distinct smell. I’m not entirely sure how to deal with such disgusting smells–I have stayed in uncomfortable train cars (hot, smelly, humid, crowded), and there’s something about whether you know who the person who smells is, which I find interesting. Even when someone smells, we don’t want to offend them by admitting that we notice. I think that may be part of the reason people were so open with their disgust in the shit train car–there was no obvious location or person it was coming from. 

Smells: just another thing New Yorkers are strangely often willing to put up with to live in this beautiful, crowded city. 

Monday: Always a Pain

Today was particularly a stupid Monday.  The train was really crowded.  I didn’t get enough done at work.  Though I’m looking forward to a week full of productive-ness, and that’s awesome.  People were not interesting in New York today, only annoying.

So, for your listening and watching pleasure, and in attempt to make this blog a bit more interesting, here’s a song I wrote, begun back in May and finished in September.  Don’t mind my nervous ticks.  Hope you like it:

Happy Monday!

Respect

I am on the MetroNorth train into Manhattan Sunday night. When I got onto the train, there weren’t many seats, and this guy was taking up four seats–sitting in between two, across from two where his computer and cell phone were taking up space. I looked intensely at the seat where his cell phone was, indicating in proper New Yorker that I intended to take the seat over from his Blackberry. He moved his Blackberry, then started packing up his computer. He pulled out a bag of nuts (something with a shell, but I couldn’t tell what kind it was). He began eating the nuts and throwing the shells on the floor…! Now, I have seen lots of crazy things. And really, this is quite the least of them. So I must have given him a look, because he offered me some nuts. I declined. But he kept throwing the shells on the ground. Here is what they look like:

The shells left on the train.

This is something that continues to amaze me–people just throwing things around, not respecting the space they live in. Perhaps they feel like it isn’t really their space, like they will never personally have to sit in that seat again, so it doesn’t matter what they do to it. That it should be someone else’s job to clean up after them because they’ve paid for the ride. I don’t know. But it seems really disrespectful to me. But then he offered me, a complete stranger, some of what he was eating, which just makes it all so much stranger. I think it was a nice gesture. Just such a contradiction to his throwing the shells on the ground though. WTF?

The Stupid Journey to Nowhere

I haven’t yet blogged a whole lot about anything I would consider particularly personal. I’m not exactly a private person, more guarded and cautious. It’s not that I worry about what people will think of me; rather, I worry they wouldn’t have an opportunity to ask me to explain myself about something and they’d just make sweeping assumptions, which would bother and frustrate me. That being said, I’ve had absolutely the most frustrating, difficult time getting a certain medication, and while I understand why things are set up the way they are, it’s just utterly frustrating. Really.

For the past 4 years, I have dealt with (suffered from?) acne. Not your run-of-the-mill acne, with a few whiteheads here and there every once in a while, but deep, excruciatingly painful cysts that I basically have nonstop. I admit that I care how it looks, and that I’m really sick of feeling like I cannot not wear makeup in front of anyone, and that it takes me an extra 20 minutes to leave my apartment because I must wash my face, moisturize and put on at least enough makeup to feel like I won’t be offending anybody, even if I just want to go get groceries or whatever. I have seldom left my house/apartment sans makeup in the past 4 years, save for the few times I’ve had a random, inexplicable respite from the acne for a week or so. But more often than not, makeup is required.

Yes, this is obnoxious to me. I feel less free, less able to be spontaneous, always worried if I touch my face that I will irreparably damage my makeup. But the more awful symptom I’ve had to deal with is the pain, and the constant reminder that my face is a battleground for bacteria (what an image! Imagine the feeling).

That all being said, I went to the dermatologist soon after this began and was put on every different cycline available (tetra, mino, and doxy). Two of them made me nauseated, the third was leaving some sort of scarring. Fun. The derm also recommended I get on birth control pills. So I think they did help, and if I were also regularly engaging in activity that might result in pregnancy, they’d have been an okay option, but once I started seeing an Acupuncturist, she wanted me off them and I had no problem with going off. But the acne flared up with a vengeance. Not fun she tried to treat it with acupuncture, but to no avail. So, about 3.5 years after first going to the dermatologist, who said the next line of treatment would be accutane, but that my acne wasn’t bad enough for that (perhaps because it was being treated with hormones?), I returned with my new, excellent health insurance to a dermatologist.

I called to schedule an appointment in the beginning of April. It took about a
month to get the first appointment. And at that point, my acne was in one of the better places it had been. So I was second-guessing asking for accutane. But she recommended it after I’d told her I had already been on all the cyclines and didn’t want to go on birth control. I’d read all about how evil it is to fetuses, but having no intention of getting pregnant in the next probably 5 years, but at the very least the next 2, that was not an issue for me.

So I left with the understanding that in 30 days I’d be able to come back and get the prescription, assuming my second pregnancy test was negative. Which I knew it would be. One month later, and a negative pregnancy test, and oh! Whoops! The dermatologist’s office forgot to enter me into the iPledge system, which means I must return in 30 MORE days for yet another pregnancy test. Seriously??! Okay. Whatever. Well, during this period, my acne once again worsens. Which is just fabulous. At least it’s confirmation that I really need these meds.

So I go back 30 days later with yet another (predictably) negative pregnancy test, and finally walk out with a prescription. This next leg of the story, I would like to begin by taking full responsibility for the mess-up that is mine. So, in this system, you have 7 days to fill the prescription. My appointment was a Monday, so I had until Sunday night to fill it, which of course means Friday for all intents and purposes. I should have gotten it filled Tuesday! Or Wednesday! Or Thursday! Only I was busy and putting it off so that next time, I’d have enough pills to last through whenever I’d be picking up the prescription that time. So I take the prescription in Friday at 1pm, which I figure is enough time for any mess-ups to be fixed. They say it’ll be ready at 3, so I will come back after work. I get there, ready to finally, 3 months after initially making an appointment with the intent o begin this medication and end the war on my face, and the woman at the pharmacy counter tells me that my insurance can’t confirm my birth date. “well, they’ve confirmed it before,” I say. She says, “you have CVS Caremark, right?” “No. No that is not the insurance I gave them.” “Oh.” She takes me card and re-enters the information. She calls the iPledge system. I am allowed to receive this medication. Yay! She enters it into the billing system and it says I’m not covered. I am, I insist. She tries again. I do, in fact have coverage. But wait! I need a preauthorization for THIS medication. Joy! More hoops! Well, by this point, it is 5:14 and turns out, the doctor’s office is closed, of course until Tuesday. But I can only get the medication by Sunday. If I don’t pick it up by then, I must retake the pregnancy test and re-answer their dumb questions that I could’ve made myself. All this requires yet another visit to the derm.

So I called today and asked for the next appointment. The doctor is on vacation until the end of July. When I already have what was supposed to be my follow-up appointment. Had the pharmacy called me to tell me that my birth date was “incorrect” (which turned out to be their mistake for entering the entirely incorrect insurance type), I would be on the meds now. If my dermatologist had hours on Friday until 6, I’d have it. If they’d originally entered the information at my first appointment? Done. And if I had brought the prescription to be filled before Friday, I would’ve been able to begin taking the meds.

But the universe, including myself, conspired against me so I would not start them yet. Maybe I’m not supposed to take them. It will be 4 months after when I wanted to now. And the real reason? Because the iPledge system treats me as a fetal vessel instead of a human being. Because my discomfort for 4 years should not be as important as a potential life. Bull. Shit.

I’m pissed at myself, but I am upset at this system. I understand the need for prevention of exposure of this drug to fetuses, and I know if there were a less strict system, people wouldn’t take it as seriously and moreover, lots of females taking this drug are adolescents and because we have such a piss-poor sex ed system in place in this country, many (many) of them do NOT know how to scientifically prevent pregnancy. But I’m not one of those people. And while I made a small error (in not taking the prescription in earlier), so many other eff-ups were not mine. I did go back and ask how much the medication would be if I just bought it out-right. $900. I will be able to get this medication for nothing because of my insurance. I feel incredibly fortunate for this fact; even the fact that I’m able to get the medication at all, and treatment for acne, I feel fortunate about. But I am frustrated. The acne has certainly had an impact (I don’t think even I am aware how large) on my self-esteem as far as how I feel about myself physically, which sucks. At this point, I’m pretty certain that I’ll go on it. I want to just get it over with though, and obviously that’s not happening.

Okay enough of that. More updates soon. Everything else is going semi-well. Just too bad I’ll have to suffer from acne for another 2 months. Who knows? Maybe it’ll be more!! Wouldn’t that be fun?

A-holes

So here’s a fun story. And a true one. This morning I was walking into work, which I generally do with headphones in, this morning listening to an audio-book of “Game Change,” which is about the 2008 elections (lots of fun, btw), so I was particularly engrossed, and as I’m about to turn into the building, these two dudes point behind me, like I’ve dropped something. So I look behind me, nothing there. I turn back to them and they’re insistently pointing. I take out my earbud and ask what they’re talking about. One of them says they lost their heart right there (where they’re pointing). At which point I roll my eyes and purse my lips, continue walking and feel like an idiot. Has New York taught me nothing??! Haha.

But, really, I’ve had a couple incidents recently of guys really dumbly hitting on me, this being one of them, and the other with a woman I’m doing economic surveys with. We were in Queens last weekend, and this group of guys was taking advantage of our openness to communication because of the survey. And so we talked a bit about why men in Latino countries (particularly, though really this could apply anywhere, in any culture) when they know it won’t get them anything tangible (specifically, they won’t get laid because they call me “Mami” or mention how sexy I am on the street). And I mentioned to her that I thought it was actually way more about intimidation and control. And I realized that’s so true. (I agree with myself!!) but really. True and upsetting. There’s no real advantage to cat-calling, except for the very real boost of feeling momentarily more powerful than the woman you’ve just (hopefully?) intimidated. And this is when I realize that (I know I’m about to walk off a feminist cliff, but bare with me) this is a component of rape culture. Because, as anyone who knows anything about rape knows, rape is about power and control, not sex. Sounding familiar??

I am super disturbed by this, and also frustrated about how to react. If I ignore these dumb people, I feel like maybe that helps a little. If I have any real kind of reaction, that seems to just reinforce the behavior, even if the reaction is rude or mean. Part of me wants to intimidate THEM, but really that, too, isn’t helpful, because the whole thing comes from a place of feeling powerless (I think) themselves, so I actually don’t want to do anything to exacerbate that feeling.

Maybe there’s nothing I can do. Maybe I should talk to them like normal human beings, so that they can see that I, too, am a normal human being. That I can have a conversation and am not merely an object in their game to halt their own insecurity. Anyway. Ranty, yes. But something that’s been on my mind.

Incongruence

I got in a disagreement with a coworker yesterday. It was really stupid (the disagreement), but it was one more straw on a stack that’s building. And I wanted to lessen that, but instead I added my own stack.

I have been frustrated before about the sociological implications of my job, and my having more social power but not any more technical power in the work place. Maybe not articulated exactly that way, but that’s how I see if now. But this truly takes the cake, AND I think I didn’t realize how unaligned my view of the world is with several of the folks I work with. Now, we have several Case Managers (6?), several of whom I get along quite well with, at least I think. But there are two with whom I have seen more potential for difficulty–I’ll call them R and C. Both of these women fall into the categories of black women who are former drug users, have cleaned up and gotten Bachelor’s degrees, and a great union job. There is one other coworker who fits into this category (we’ll call her B). But for whatever reason, I have seen R and C are much more intimidated?

So I have had not really any difficulty with C (though she can be frustrating to deal with), perhaps because I have skated around her as though I could see the ice cracking already. But I felt more comfortable with R from the beginning, which I think ironically made things more dangerous. Once EMR began and everyone started asking me questions about computers ALL THE TIME (not complaining, just noting), she would call me and I would answer, “What?” because I wanted people to get to the point. Not the most professional, I realize, but actually I think it was an attempt to communicate like my coworkers (in a joking way), just the way I interpreted it. Which was not appreciated. She informed me; I have not since answered any of her phone calls or yelling out from her desk with, “What?”

Then a few months ago, all of our supervisors were gone except for a very high-up supervisor, and I made the mistake? of telling him what I wad doing. R told me that he doesn’t need to be involved in our business, that we do our own thing and keep to ourselves. Which, to me, is bizarre. I come from the assumption that authority is here to protect us, to make sure everything that needs to get done, does. Which really is what all this boils down to. But I’m getting ahead of myself.

So yesterday R comes over to me and asks in a very flustered manner what we were supposed to be doing with a particular list. I had created a set of directions to do what needed to be done (which she didn’t actually know), but before I told her that, I did not want her to be mad. I mean, she can be mad, but I didn’t want to be talking to someone who was so flustered, even as it was not directed towards me. So I made a huge mistake. Huge. And also very preventable, had I taken two seconds to think about it, and reacted to her as a person unlike me. But no, I told her to take a breath. Bad move. Did I make that clear yet??

She told me not to talk to her “like that,” to never mind and walked away. Whoops. Now, part of me really wishes I just had never said anything. But I also feel frustrated in not being able to be myself. In not being around people who are self-assured enough to shrug off my telling them to take a breath, or who can take a breath and laugh, or whatever. My intention was not to infer that she did not know how to calm herself down, but that we all need a reminder sometimes. And also that I don’t talk to people who are upset. I won’t. That is my limit. And I was trying to convey that in as inoffensive way as possible. But I guess it backfired.

So what I realized it that there is just a huge incongruence in how I view authority an how R does. Asking our supervisor to mediate a conversation did not help. Why did I think it would? She spent the conversation telling me she thinks I look down on her (I actually believe “us” was the word used), and that she was concerned about her job because I brought our supervisor in (though the supervisor made quite clear that she was not there in a supervisory nor disciplinary manner). Despite being I a union. Despite having done nothing wrong. Certainly nothing punishment-worthy. Despite my actually asking HER for information about what I could do differently that would help. Despite all that, she felt threatened. And like I think I’m better than her. And that I have power that she does not. And you know what? She’s right. Not about my being better than her, but that I have more power. I am affluent, if not in my finances, in my vocabulary, in my demeanor, in my confidence and sense of empowerment. And that all counts for a lot, and goes to show you that poverty is about a hell of a lot more than money. It is disturbing to me that an adult reacted as she did to the entire situation, but I have to remember that she’s coming from such a different world. A world where adults and other figures of authority are not to be trusted, and do not have your best intentions in mind.

I am so lucky to not be from that world. But I’m living in it right now, and talk about culture shock, in truly the most depressing way possible. It is a world of no hope, and distrust of but unavoidable reliance upon authority figures. Fear, uncertainty and doubt. This is America, dystopia-style.

Upper West Side

The Upper West Side is a funny place. My blogger app on the iPhone just deleted everything I wrote in the past 15 minutes. Awesome. I’ll summarize–the UWS has lots of families, including mothers of infants and nannies of young children, all of whom gather at the new Whole Foods. Which is also where I eat lunch every day. I’m working on this. I brought my own lunch two days this week. Yay! Accomplishment! But it is still hard for me to stay away. It is too easy to just say, I’ll go there. Though as it’s warmer, I think I’ll try to get to Central Park more often. So some of it is paying for a place to sit.

Anyhow, it is also an interesting (if sometimes obnoxious) place to people-watch. There are lots of children, and then their caretakers, who, as mentioned previously, are anything from new, young hip moms to nannies. The nannies are nearly always minorities, often older, always women. Sometimes there are families. It is always incredible how many people, in the middle of the day, are hanging out at Whole Foods. So. Many. Do these people not have jobs, I wonder? How? Can I do what they’re doing? Obvs there are lots of folks on their lunch breaks. Recently, they’ve been census workers. Also lots of construction workers (there’s a huge construction project going on all around). There are also often people sitting on laptops (mostly macs), engaging in some level of work. I want their jobs. But anyway. Today these few things collided in a new type of person. The parent who brings their kid to Whole Food to do work.

Before describing this woman, I should mention that New York City has a wide variety of dress styles. People can dress pretty slouchy and go unnoticed, more or less. There are just so many people. And no one cares. But this woman took slouchy to a whole new level. It looked not like she’d just rolled out of bed but that she’d been wearing the same outfit for a few days, probably not having showered for that whole time. I should mention she was white, as are many of the Whole Foods frequenters. And there was something very hippy about her–it was more intentional than accident that she seemed so unkempt. I can’t put my finger on why I assume this. And maybe I’m wrong. But she had a computer. And a nice stroller. And she was white, quite honestly, and also in good shape (not overweight). Probably wearing sandals. Luke Chacos or something. I can’t remember, but I wouldn’t be surprised. Anyhow, when I first sat down, I saw a little blond child exploring the seat next to me where a young woman, maybe even in her late teens, sat, shooting me frequent uncomfortable glances, arms intentionally kept close to her body. She made sure not to give the child any encouragement, clearly not thrilled he was imposing on her space. It took me a bit, regardless, of observing the two of them interact to realize they were not together; he, oblivious to her very adult (or adolescent) body language saying, “uh, what?! are you doing here…”; she, unsure how to react to someone so inattentive to his or her child that they didn’t notice her clear discomfort. Mostly it took time because there was no other adult anywere nearby who the child did seem attached to. Until the disheveled woman approached and nonchalantly noted, “if he gets annoying, just give me a wave, ” before returning to the world of some networked world via her laptop, five tables over.

Cue look in my direction of severe discomfort.

I shrugged. Gave a look of uncertainty. What IS the ettiquite for people who disregard their children, at your expense?but the child wasn’t bothering me. If he were, I’d be assertive, take his little hand and walk him back over to his mommy. The little boy grabbed the SmartWater bottle on the table. Uncomfortable young woman is finally motivated to do something besides give looks of alarm. She takes the bottle from him.

He left after a few minutes, toddled over to the trash cans and cleaning chemical cupboard (really. I come here every day) and began pulling down the sign, “This is NOT a trash can,” that everyone disregards. In his defense, he did figure out how to put it back, placing the Velcro parts together. I guess someone has taught him to be responsible. More evidence to the intentionality of his mother’s harried dress.

It was at this point I noticed that said child looked in line with his mother. Though to top off his severe bed-head, he wore a cloth diaper, or hippie-underwear, over his clothes. Which, really, is just kind of icky. It was probably clean. But still. Odd. Mom finished up whatever she was working on. The super-uncomfortable victim of the child’s innocence and naivete of social norms left. All was well.

But the incident really does make me think about children, culture, acceptable behavior. The mother obviously was not paying attention to how her child was affecting others. And I don’t think you should be paranoid about that, which is all too easy to do, but, really. It was so blatant how freaked out the young woman sitting next to me was, and the feeling I got from the mother’s comment was that she wanted to feel like she’d offered an out, when really she just didn’t want to watch her child.

I do think the young woman disturbed by the child’s presence bears some responsibility in speaking up, or explaining to the child that hanging out in someone else’s space (or, at least, HER space) is not really acceptable. Obviously there was a line, with him grabbing her water bottle, but she was clearly uncomfortable before that. And she could have told the mother that she was really not okay with the kid being all up in her grill, probably especially since his mom didn’t seem to be really paying attention to him. When I have been in that position, I have felt responsible–like if the kid did something dangerous, I would need to tell them to stop. Which is part of why I would bring the kid over to its parent. Or at least talk to him or her (the child).

But I found it to be an interesting dilemma. Also that it’s totally inappropriate to bring your child to Whole Foods to do work and behave as though you are in your own home, where other people who may or may not be made to feel uncomfortable by your child’s presence and your inattentiveness. Or maybe I’m being too paranoid, and not letting others just be responsible for themselves, and know where their lines are and how to draw them.

In Actuality

Here is what I ended up actually replying (if you have not read the previous post, do that before you read this–it’ll make much more sense):

You seem like a really intelligent, thoughtful, interesting person, and therefore I am truly shocked that you are concerned about my working with HIV positive patients. You are not a bad person, merely uninformed. Your preoccupation is quite UNreasonable, however, as the only ways to transmit HIV are through blood, sexual fluids and breast milk. There are no exceptions. Condoms are very effective at preventing transmission. While there is, I suppose, a bit of an elevated risk in working in a health clinic with the needles used to draw blood there, I do not treat patients–I just provide emotional support. In my personal life, I neither use IV drugs nor have unprotected sex, so my risk of having HIV is actually extremely low.

While you sound like someone who is, in some ways, very compatible with me, I find it very difficult to get past your allowing yourself to be so incredibly uninformed about even the basics of HIV transmission. I do wish you the best, and if you have any questions, or would like to meet as friends, I would be up for that.

Take care,
Shannon

Sleepless Ranting

I am trying to get to sleep, which I’ve been a bit better about recently, but I am kept awake by the ranting going on in my head, so I’ll type it out and hopefully this will allow me some peaceful sleep.

This is, in fact, an addendum to my most recent post, The REAL Rules, in which I discuss some of the more ridiculous things people say in online personals. But this is just seriously incredible; awesomely ridiculous. This guy wrote me a nice little message, saying I’d caught his eye and whatever. So I wrote him back requesting that he write a bit more, as his profile essays are blank (this should have been red flag number 1; ignored). I am trying to give people the benefit of the doubt. Evidently this is a mistake. So this dude writes me back a very nice, extensive message that was pretty interesting, mostly grammatically sound, etc etc. He sounded thoughtful, intelligent, and aside from his being born in a certain country that will not be named from which I have known 3 men, 2 of whom ripped my heart to shreds, there seemed to be no more red flags. Until at the very end of this long and decent message falls this line:

oh and i have to say it makes me a little nervous that you work with HIV patients, does it make me a bad person? i think my preoccupation is reasonable.

BOOM. WHAT. THE. EFF?? There are several things wrong with this. I’m going to go with the simple first–preoccupation: an extreme or excessive concern with something. Really? As in, you are preoccupied by the fact that I work with HIV positive patients, meaning that you are concerned about how this could impact our nonexistent relationship? I suppose it is a valid use of the word, but it seems excessive. Which is why I’m upset about the rest of it. Here are some potential responses:
  • Not sure I would consider entering into a sexual relationship with someone so incredibly uninformed about how STIs are transmitted.
  • Actually, I work with HIV positive patients because I am HIV positive…JK, but that sinking, disgusted feeling you just got? Yeah, that’s why I’d never date you.
  • Um, well considering that I neither share needles nor have unprotected sex with anyone, much less my patients, my risk of contracting HIV is pretty low.
Please feel free to add more.
I am so upset by this, partly on behalf of the really interesting, amazing folks I’ve met who happen to be HIV positive. For one thing, it is not a death sentence. Period. The patients I know who take care of themselves are healthy and many have lived 10, 15 years with the diagnosis. It is a chronic health issue, just as diabetes, high blood pressure, high cholesterol are. It just happens to be transmitted, sexually. I’m disgusted (and also a little confused) about why this guy is worried–does he honestly not know how HIV is transmitted? And if he does, does he really think I’m at risk because I’m around people who are HIV positive?! For one thing, HIV is actually a pretty difficult virus to catch, if you’re taking precautions (read: not using IV drugs and using condoms when having sex). The only reason it is still an issue is because people refuse to take condoms seriously and because they have the attitude (and knowledge) of this guy, coupled with the idea that you can tell someone is positive. Which, I can tell you from meetings many dozens of people who are positive, you cannot. They come in all shapes, sizes, socio-economic class, ethnicity. Which is why EVERYONE should protect themselves! It ain’t difficult. Testing + condoms = HIV negative. People are so scared of this virus that they plug their ears when learning about it. But education is key. Like I say, it is not an easy virus to catch. I’d be a lot more worried about Hep B if I hadn’t been vaccinated. Which since this guy grew up in the unnamed country, he may not have been vaccinated against. And likelihood he’s heard of that? Quite low.
I’m totally split in this case between writing a little education STI transmission lesson, bitching him out, or ignoring it (this is like a fuschia flag though, right??). Who am I to judge? Perhaps he has never been interested in STIs and health. Maybe he just doesn’t care. I guess that’s the problem I have–people think they can ignore this stuff, just float through life without their ignorance being a problem. But it is. This is something that affects us all. And in my opinion (because you asked), no one who doesn’t generally understand the basics of STI transmission has any business having sex. Unfortunately that isn’t my call.
Maybe I’m reading this wrong. Maybe he’s worried about me? Like, he thinks it is a stressful environment and it is emotionally draining? He is nervous that in our perhaps relationship he will have to emotionally support me through tough times dealing with difficult patients? But he does say he’s nervous. I’m just still confused about what he is nervous about–that I will have HIV because I’m around people with it? That is just so…ignorant and sad. As I say, on behalf of my patients, I am livid. And he questions whether he is a bad person. To that, I answer, dude–you are not a bad person, you are uninformed. And I would like you to be informed. I would not like you to be my sex partner, due to your uninformedness. kthxbai!