std clinic

I'm writing this while traveling, no internet wi fi, so using my cell phone.

Last night I met again with foreign cutie with killer abs. He'd been texting me and wanting to talk. I suggested we meet at the bathhouse we'd met at, but he said he wanted to talk first. We met at a restaurant and with some encouragement he described burning sensation with urination for the last week. He'd thought of asking me since I work in healthcare. He'd researched a bit from his cell phone online and thought he might have gonorrhea and wanted some information as to how to get the medication remedy. I explained how it works in this country, that one needs to see a doctor first for some tests and a prescription. Then he could purchase it at a pharmacy. I felt honored that he would confide with me, and that I could help.

We looked up the nearest urgent care, made a few calls, and walked to the nearest one. He requested that I go with him as his English is still limited, and he hadn't been to a medical center as an adult yet. On the way up he expressed how scared he'd been, feeling like "the earth was going to swallow me up," and thanked me repeatedly.

At the urgent care we negotiated between translating, no insurance and payment, then urine and blood test. All firsts for him. The German-accented doctor prescribed and administered by-mouth and injection antibiotics. She was wonderful.

Four hours after the initial conversation we walked down the cold hill, having resolved, we hope, the issue. He should feel relief within a few hours. And a follow-up phone call to the center will reveal the results of the various tests in a few days. The smile on his face and the relief to his novel-for-him situation brought me great satisfaction. We embraced for a long while, and parted, now near midnight. I'd need to get up at 4am the next morning to pack and travel. Helping out sure isn't convenient sometimes. But I'd do it again in a heartbeat.

As one of my white-braided friends would say: It's a good day to die.