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When my relationship with Mark became physical, we used condoms but understood that the viruses couldn't be prevented totally. As our relationship developed a sense of permanence, we took a pragmatic approach, mentally preparing to eventually contract each other's diseases. The chances of passing herpes to my partner — if I have no outbreaks, am not on suppression medication and do not use condoms — are two to four percent over the course of a year. Abstaining from kissing and sexual activity during an outbreak is the best prevention. A partner with no symptoms can get a blood test to check for the antibodies of HPV-2, but the results are often inconclusive. Researchers at the Louisiana State University Health Sciences Center performed a study in which 98% of participants shed HSV-1 DNA in their tears. Dr. Herbert Kaufman, leader of the study, says this shows the virus is everywhere and practically unavoidable.
"This doesn't mean we're hopeless and unlovable," said Mark. "We just have to be adults about it." |
When I first contracted herpes, I took the suppression medication Valtrex. Because I didn't have recurring outbreaks and my doctor believed my body was handling the virus well, I stopped. More than two years passed before I had a second outbreak. My doctor and I believed stress was the trigger. My job had been demanding; Mark and I were experiencing relationship growing pains. I wasn't sleeping well and felt depressed; I believed everything important was in jeopardy. Then my body started breaking down.
Embarrassingly, I didn't recognize the outbreak for what it was. First, I thought it was a yeast infection. Then I thought I had contracted HPV. I made my boyfriend answer a million questions. Over-the-counter yeast-infection creams made the pain worse. Even though I knew what herpes looked like, I wasn't able to recognize its later manifestations. This, I learned, is common.
Mark insisted I see my doctor. He stayed calm and rational, sending me text messages to ask how I was feeling and gently reiterating his belief that I was having an outbreak. I was scared, irritable, even made him swear that he hadn't been unfaithful. I told him I felt ruined.
"Even if, God forbid, we don't end up together we still have the most common STDs out there," Mark said. "It doesn't mean we're hopeless and unlovable; we just have to be adults about it."
Today, I dread the idea of not being with him, but not because I'm afraid of telling people anymore. We've have been together for about three years now, have more sex in more ways than anyone we know, and are both still free of each other's viruses. I've had two mild, almost invisible outbreaks since my initial infection over four years ago. I get regular Paps and the full gamut of tests. We want to marry, maybe have a kid. We have talked about herpes and risks to the baby at childbirth, and HPV's link to cervical cancer. Sometimes, we don't think about any of it, until we're reminded.
"Great," said Mark. "It feels so good to know I can give a woman cancer." |
Lately, in addition to the increasingly common TV ads for Valtrex, we're bombarded with ads for the HPV vaccine and news of the surrounding controversy.
Merck, the maker of Gardasil, notes that the vaccine is only approved for girls and women aged nine to twenty-six. At thirty-two, I'm outside that range. According to my gynecologist, the drug researchers have presumed I've gotten married. Still, she thinks I could benefit from the vaccine. Each of the three shots in the series costs $500, and she encouraged me to see if insurance might cover it, though in her experience they don't. "Use condoms," she says at the end of our conversations.
Statistically, women become more sexually conservative after their mid-twenties, and medical science reports that most women build up an immunity to the HPV virus and break it down over time. The risk is that, five to ten percent of the time, the virus incorporates itself into the genetic structure of cervical cells and eventually becomes precancerous. "Great, " Mark said once, after watching the Gardasil commercial, "It feels so good to know I can give a woman cancer."
I wanted to tell him that what he's given me is confidence, and a feeling of partnership I hadn't thought possible. Instead, I kissed him on the neck and said, "I know. It's all right." Mark looked at me and put his hand out, palm up. I low-fived him in a gesture of solidarity, then held his hand and fast-forwarded through the rest of the commercial. Safety is a relative concept, but I'm glad it's one that can be personally constructed, and mutually enjoyed.
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| ABOUT THE AUTHOR: |
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Maggie Paderau is a writer in New York. |
©2007 Maggie Paderau and Nerve.com |
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