This last question caught me off guard during this most recent visit. It’s been a busy summer, so to speak. The slow burning terror returned. Or was it an actual burning sensation? “How many sexual partners?” he asks again. I count on my fingers, and I can feel my eyes widening. Fuck. Fuck. FUCK! I don’t think I’m imagining the judgment in his eyes. I’m drenched in sweat by the time I hold out my finger to get pricked. A drop of my blood forms on my skin and I look at it accusingly. “Be clean!” I silently demand it. The nurse collects the blood and puts it in a tiny tube, and leads me back out to the waiting room. “It’s going to take just 15 minutes,” he says. Just 15 minutes. And so commences the longest 15 minutes I’ve experienced in three months.