The Crucial Test

With his final university examination to contend with, Ade suddenly also had to deal with a severe headache and a rising temperature. From all indications, it wasn’t as a result of intense studying. Most students would break down under such pressure, a subtle reminder of their mortality. Not Ade, he had trained his mind over time to withstand sustained hours of intense studying. Everything points to one answer as he could fathom. “No, not again! I treated malaria just last month,” he thought out loud.

His final examination was scheduled for the next day and if there’s one thing he despised, it is taking pills not recommended by an healthcare professional. Besides, taking malaria pills at that instant would only weaken him further and that would be bordering on two injustices committed against his own self in a short while. He took paracetamol, the safe option (or so it seemed).

Fast forward to the next day and like an experienced surgeon in a familiar theatre, he dissected the examination questions with minimal fuss. Not surprising as he’s not only a first class student but also a very fast writer.

No sooner had he left the examination hall than his classmates started requesting his appearance in a few shots (most of them wrote hurriedly and left the hall, it was their final paper after-all). “Ade, lets snap nah,” a number of voices echoed from different angles. “Paparazzi, not today,” he mumbled feeling really sick. Eventually, he took a few shots then wriggled his way out of the increasing crowd. 

He went through all the clinic’s formalities with visible tiredness and at long last he was granted access to see the doctor. “Good afternoon ma,” he said as he entered, being the ever-polite gentleman. The doctor was a good-looking young woman in her late twenties. She replied with a warm smile and motioned for him to sit. Upon examining him and checking his medical record, she shot him a worrisome glance. “You treated malaria just last month and from what you have complained of, it seems likely that you’re suffering from another breakdown.” He knew she was right but he couldn’t even muster a single word. 

“You’ll have to do a blood test, take this form to the laboratory tomorrow and get these pills at the pharmaceutical unit,” she said as she handed two pieces of paper to Ade. He was almost at the door when he heard “when last did you do an HIV test?” it struck him hard like a spear of ice on an average winter night. “HIV bawo?” he mumbled. He has never done one in his life. The doctor gave him another paper to take to the school clinic’s HIV testing centre the next day. “It won’t cost you a thing,” she said with a bright smile that revealed her diastema.

Feeling a lot better the next day, he headed to the laboratory where he tested positive for malaria and typhoid fevers. He then proceeded to the HIV unit to check his status, perhaps there’s a correlation between HIV and his frequent breakdowns. HIV, after-all, disrupts the proper functioning of the immune system. 

“Come in please,” he heard as he knocked. He entered and exchange pleasantries with an older woman obviously in her fifties. Ade gave her the previous day’s form. She doubled as the unit’s head counselor and impromptu laboratory scientist. Her first task was to hand him a voluntary HIV-checking status form which he filled in no time. Next she had his thumb punctured and his blood sample taken. 

“Tell me Ade, what you know about HIV.” Now the stage was set for him to do what he knows how to do best. Ade was not your regular cram-to-pass first class student. He reads all sort of random stuffs, from medicine to psychology, from social sciences to arts and humanity though he was an engineering student. He talked at length about the subject till he was interrupted by the counselor. “Wow! I’m impressed.” Ade smiled and she continued “when was the last time you were involved in a sexual encounter?” “Never,” he replied with a resolute tone. Ade was one whose principles are deeply rooted in ideal morality. His dad was Muslim and his mum, Christian. Though he was not totally inclined towards either religion, he clearly understood that both faiths prohibit sex before marriage. His elder brother, however, has tons of girlfriends and others he calls 'sex mates', Ade was never pressured into doing what he considers morally wrong. 

“Okay, but you know that HIV can be contacted through other means than sex, right?” she asked. “Yes, I do,” he replied. “Ade who’s your next-of-kin?” “My brother ma,” the womanizer, Ade is so fond of him even with his many vices, he just believed that there’s an unending amount of good left in everyone, regardless. Then again, blood, they say, is thick.  “How old is he?” she asked. “Twenty three ma,” he replied. Ade was twenty years old. “No, I want someone above thirty,” she told him. “Why? Someone who can handle the news with maturity?” he thought to himself, his heart now racing faster. “My dad then,” he managed to say with his face turning pale.

“Ade, anyone can be infected with HIV, even myself. We’re even more at risk given the nature of our job. But it doesn’t matter, we’ll live on,” she had said.

Suddenly, like a bolt of lightning, it struck. About two years ago, Ade’s mom had given him some money to purchase a clipper for his haircuts, he used it instead for a pair of nice loafers. He also remembered how he often shares his nail cutter with other people due to his sheer generosity. Once, he was involved in an accident where he tripped and was pierced by a clear blood-dripping needle. Everything now seem to add up.

“What have I done to myself?” he thought. His worst fears were about to be laid bare in front of his very own eyes. A young bright chap on an ascending stairway about to tumble into an ocean of confusion. Life couldn’t get worse.

“Would you adhere to our advice, take prescribed drugs and attend group meetings if tested positive?” he was asked. “Of course, not like I have a choice,” he replied with a heavy heart, his voice barely audible. “Who do you think is responsible if you test positive?” she asked yet another question. Once again, the unwelcome thoughts of many different non-sterilized clippers he had used in different salons, nail cutters and other objects exchange materialized in his memory bank like a constellation. He was confident, however, that it wasn’t from sexual intercourse. Life can be unfair after-all. “My parents if I acquired it naturally, myself otherwise,” he strained to say with a puppy face.

“Okay Ade, let’s go check your result,” she said. Stoically, he got up with his heart rate at the highest it has ever been. “You’re non-reactive,” she told him, yet his brain could not process the signal sent by his ears. “Am I positive or negative ma?” he asked to be double sure. “You’re negative my dear,” she replied with a gentle pat on his shoulder.

Ade’s joy knew no bounds.

“Here’s your result,” she said as she handed a piece of paper to him. “Please come back in three months for a follow-up test, have a lovely day,” she concluded. “Okay, thank you ma,” he replied with an heroic smile as he left.

Once he left the school clinic, he thought to himself “Three months? Not in this world. We part to never meet again.”

The end.