#herpiversary

I first noticed pain that I couldn't ignore the Saturday night after Thanksgiving. This was in 2011, 3 years ago. We were celebrating with Boyfriend's family; his uncle had cooked and everything was incredible. At some point in the evening I had to pee, and wiping myself meant touching spots that HURT. It was unlike anything I had felt before, and it was not pleasant. On Sunday the uncle who had cooked us dinner dropped dead of a heart attack.

My sores became worse over the next few days, and eventually I went to the gyno (CRNP) for a swab test. My test results weren't going to be ready until the following Monday. It was a looooong-ass weekend, during which I met a ton of Boyfriend's friends and family at the uncle's memorial service. They were all thrilled to finally meet me, and I was sure that this was the first and last time I'd ever see them; as soon as Boyfriend knew I probably had herpes, he'd break up with me. (I have a photo of us from the memorial, and I looked utterly miserable and sad, but I love it because I know how the day turned out.) I was in a great deal of physical pain, and emotionally exhausted, but it's pretty easy to hide those things at a funeral.

The night after the service, we took a shower together. He knew I was having issues with my bits, but I'd planned to wait until my test results came back to even tell him I'd gone in for tests in the first place. Instead I broke down in the shower and told him what was happening. I sobbed, and he held me. "It's ok, it'll be ok. Whatever it is, we'll get through it together, just please stop crying."

I was, of course, diagnosed with GHSV2 on Monday. I'd resigned myself to it by then, and was just so glad to have a diagnosis, because it meant I could start taking the proper medication and start to feel better.