COLUMN: The toughest test

From Sonja Stumacher's, "Fragments of the Sun," Fall '96 From Sonja Stumacher's, "Fragments of the Sun," Fall '96Misguided federal priorities are puttingFrom Sonja Stumacher's, "Fragments of the Sun," Fall '96Misguided federal priorities are puttingpreventative health care out of reach. From Sonja Stumacher's, "Fragments of the Sun," Fall '96Misguided federal priorities are puttingpreventative health care out of reach. I was taken aback when the woman in the lab coat leaned toward me and slowly recited the words, "Be prepared for the emotional impact of discovering you have tested positive." For a moment I lost my voice while a stinging burst of adrenaline leaped through my body, trapping me beneath a wave of nauseating terror. I felt nervous, ill -- but not just because I was awaiting the needle's unpleasant penetration of the exposed vein on my right arm. All at once, and for the first time ever, I truly swallowed the possibility that I might have contracted HIV, the virus that causes AIDS. My shocked reaction wasn't so rare, I'm sure. In reality, few of us ever seriously weigh the chance that we might be susceptible to HIV infection. We believe ourselves to be pillars of health, young, sound, resilient. AIDS happens to other people, to weaker, sicker people, to people who put themselves at risk. Not to us. The inherent fallacy of this blind assumption is exactly why so many people unknowingly contract and pass on the virus. As we all know -- in our minds, at least, if not in our hearts -- nobody is immune. I was stunned to discover that, come April 1, Penn's on-campus HIV test site will cease operation. Apparently, our beloved federal government is not providing adequate resources to keep pace with a growing national demand for HIV prevention services. A likely reason for this closing, then, is discontinued federal funding of test sites that yield smaller numbers of HIV-positive results. Test sites like ours. Right. Are you kidding? I must be missing something. We're not producing high enough infection rates, so the site is being shut down? I am alarmed by this rationale. There's something appalling about a community of people needing to reveal greater numbers of HIV-positive results in order to warrant the continued support of this crucial, preventive measure. As Kurt Conklin of the University's Office of Health Education pointed out to me, the logical outcome of our country's current political climate -- in which there is pressure to balance the federal budget, cut taxes for the privileged and return responsibility for health care and social welfare to the states -- is that services such as Penn's HIV testing site will be reduced or eliminated unless they serve a population with a high rate of HIV infection. Perhaps those of you who heartily support our country's present political trend might reconsider your thinking when you realize that the philosophy behind it, when applied to public health issues such as AIDS, deprives you of crucial services such as the free, anonymous, on-campus test site. As a matter of good fortune, there are still two other sites within easy walking distance of the University. One is at 451 University Avenue and the other is at St. Leonard's Court at 39th and Chestnut Streets. That these facilities exist, however, does not in the least ease my apprehension at learning of the recent closing. The unspoken yet clearly discernable message behind this governmental act communicates to me a disturbing philosophy, one which claims that a problem need not be solved until it's highly visible. Perhaps even blinding. If you, too, are shaken by the loss of the campus testing site, pressure your Congressional representatives to increase support for the Ryan White Care Act, which provides funding for HIV testing, treatment and prevention. And, of course, vote in November for political candidates who view HIV as a national concern. Because it is. It's your concern, and it's mine. When I returned to the test site to pick up my results, I had spent a solid week silently pondering the gravity of discovering the worst, of discovering that I had tested positive. As you can imagine, when I heard the five magical words, "Your results came back negative," I felt a deep sense of relief. And a new resolve to continue to be as safe and healthy as possible. In time, as the intensity of this experience tapers off, I hope that I might be able to retain the taste of mortality that shrouded my mind for one week. And I hope, too, that the rest of our community, not to mention our society as a whole, shall gather forces to offer the assiduous dedication that the issue demands. It's worth the time, the money, the care and thought. It's worth the effort.