Not me. My daughter. She’s fourteen.
Sunday night her dad dropped her off at my place while I was asleep. They had just come back from a weekend in New Hampshire.
When I saw her the next day — specifically when I saw the large oozy sore on her lip — I said, “We’re going to the doctor.”
She insisted the ugly sore was just a bad recovery from her boyfriend “biting” her lip, somethiing he does all the time..
But I knew. I knew what it was immediately, and made an emergency “sick” appointment at her doctors. We rushed out the door.
She could barely walk. My long legged daughter. The one I can hardly ever keep up with when walking the streets of Manhattan.
The Doc took cultures from her lip and her vaginal area, which had similar sores which I did not see. It was all between doctor and client, but she wanted me to share the news. We won’t know if it’s Herpes I (oral) or Hepres II (the dreaded) for a few days.
My daughter, when I asked, said she had not had intercourse, but that they had had oral sex.
In the doctor’s office, she cried. I wanted to, but was scolded for reaching out to hug my daughter.
I also wanted to tear the legs and arms off of her boyfreind. Instead, when he came to our apartment last night along with another friend of my daughter, I took him into the hall for a talk.
I told him the news. That I wanted to (figuratively) kill him (I was amazingly calm). That he may need to be tested. That we will know results by Thursday. That she will never be the same. That he can never bite her lip again, or it’s apt to cause another outbreak. That he cannot speak of this to anyone. That I don’t want my daughter to be a pariah.
My daughter took the Valtrex that was prescribed and which will probably speed the heeling. I couldn’t afford the cream ($864 for one tube) and bought some OTC analgesic cream for her vag.
Hopefully the outbreak will go away soon. Hopefully it will be Herpes I, and she won’t have many relapses in her life. Hopefully this was just a bad dream.