I’m Andrew’s anus, and I have HPV.
Last week I told about how Andy (finally!) got appropriate surgery for my warts and how we learned that it wasn’t the same as a cure.
That was twenty five years ago.
At the time no one dared dream it would be possible to live this long this well with HIV.
For a year or two after the surgery, Dr. Bradley and Andy both kept a sharp eye on me. Occasionally one or the other found a small wart or two in me and each time Dr. B destroyed them with an acid called TCA. Eventually they stopped finding warts and it seemed like I was done with that pesky HPV.
Finding out that he had chronic hepatitis B and HIV put a damper on Andy’s sex life for a while. The shock of the news and the angst that came with suddenly facing mortality had as much to do with that as the viruses. Andy was also really nervous about me. He worried that the surgery might have left me vulnerable and wanted to make sure I had plenty of time to heal.
About six months in, something occurred to Andy. Wouldn’t he feel ridiculous if he moped around for months only to realize he still felt fine?
Full text of article available at link below –