This post is for me, for future reference and to test my understanding of an important, well-documented, and uncontroversial point. Also, I think greater transparency about the things I’m ignorant of but shouldn’t be probably good (for me and as a general rule for physcians). For those who want to continue, a warning: like most medical students, I’m untrained in quantitative methods. More damningly, I lack even a conceptual understanding of what statistical and mathematical methods mean, although it’s expected that I be comfortable enough with them to accurately interpret medical literature. In this I am not alone (a fact which is perversely consoling to me, although it should just be even more worrisome). Worst: I am a sloppy thinker.
(more…)
That’s the idea behind recent proposals for testing centers to provide STD-free individuals who submit to regular testing with, say, a wallet-sized card or web-accessible documentation to advertise their clean bill of health to potentials sexual partners (Steven Landsburg, as I recall, makes a similar proposal in his book).
The basic problem with sex with new people, from an infection control standpoint, is one of inadequate information about risk. Even if you’re bold and careful enough to take a good sexual history ahead of time, there’s no way to guarantee a straight answer. It’s horrific to think that someone would lie about being HIV negative, but not so much of a stretch to lie about being tested and when, or having contracted other infections. Carrying a card that officially documents dates and results would convey two pieces of information: the obvious information on the card, and the indirect information that you’re someone conscientious enough to carry one. The obvious effect is to increase your desirability to likeminded persons, while improving your odds at not getting burned during the ensuing sexual escapades. Or so they say. (more…)
I’m in Rochester Minnesota tonight visiting the Mayo Clinic. They’re putting me up in a very nice hotel across the street, obviously it thrives on its proximity to the hospital. There’s a Starbucks in the lobby with a fireplace — I assume it’s not real, but I didn’t look. There was a woman outside gasping for breath like she was trying to sob but couldn’t find the tears. Her husband had his arm around her, kids were trailing behind. Strange feeling.