By Ryan Lanji

Copyright metro

My results came back and revealed that I was clear of everything except Hepatitis C (Picure: Koby Photography)

‘Why me?’ That was my first thought when I received the news that I’d tested positive for Hepatitis C.

I’d vaguely heard of it, knew it was a virus that affects the liver, is spread through blood-to-blood contact and that, if left untreated, it could be life-threatening.

However, doctors reassured me that there was hope: it was traceable, treatable, and curable.

With their help, I have had successful treatment, but it has been a long journey full of setbacks and soul-searching.

When I first moved to London, I discovered how dazzling and joyful the LGBTQ+ community could be – being in the heart of culture and inspiration it felt like anything could happen, which is why I never said no to an all night party at a club or flat share. I wanted to be amongst the celebrations.

For many of us, however, there remained a dark side.

Being queer in a new city means that some people feel they have to bluff their way into circles of hedonism because they finally feel free – at least that was my experience.

One night, I ended up in the company of someone I wish I could forget (Picture: Brendan Hepworth)

In the same breath as reminding my friends to hold onto their phones and bags, I’d put myself in precarious situations by partying or often going to extreme lengths to ensure the ‘fun’ never stopped.

Nights that began with a few drinks often spiralled into sunrise, shots, and the hunt for the next party, which is how, one night, I ended up in the company of someone I wish I could forget.

My memory of that night is fractured, but I know that what happened wasn’t consensual. And when I woke up I knew something was wrong. I felt used, dirty, like something inside me had changed.

For a while, a part of me wanted to bury what had happened, to forget the night and pretend like everything was OK. But a louder part kept saying I had to take care of myself.

I started going to therapy which became my safe space until, eventually, I was finally able to say the hardest words out loud: I’d been abused.

My stomach dropped when my results came back (Picture: Koby Photography/ Ian Kobylanski)

Being able to admit this allowed me to strip the shame away. It also reminded me that I had to look out for myself and that honesty led me to the clinic.

I often tested with Sexual Health London (SHL) – a free and discreet online service for Londoners who would like to get themselves checked – as a precaution, but this time I had cause to be nervous.

My stomach dropped when my results came back and revealed that I was clear of everything except Hepatitis C.

Though I’d had an STI before I’d mostly always had a clean bill of health. To now contract a virus that is actually very rare to get through unprotected sex, was surreal and I felt so ashamed. The doctors were sure the incident of abuse was when transmission had occurred.

Each pill reminded me I was choosing myself (Picture: Koby Photography/Ian Kobylanski)

After being referred to the hospital for blood tests, I was told that, fortunately, it had been caught extremely early and with treatment it would only take a short course of medication to get back to good health.

Even as recently as the late 2000s, treatment could take a year, involve painful injections, and leave people debilitated. But, thanks to a breakthrough in modern medicine in 2014, there is now a 95% success rate of being cured of Hepatitis C in three months with tablets.

For several weeks taking my tablets became a ritual of reclamation. Each pill reminded me I was choosing myself, building a stronger sense of responsibility and self-love. I also felt a responsibility to protect the community I love, too.

I hadn’t stayed silent and because of that I was standing taller (Picture: Ian Kobylanski/Koby Photography)

Friends were proud that I was taking care of myself and I reveled in the fact that every time I took my medication it felt like a victory over my abuser.

And when I heard the words ‘you’re cured’ two months later, I felt relief like I never had before.

I had faced this head on: I’d beaten the shame, I hadn’t stayed silent and because of that I was standing taller and prouder.

The Hepatitis C Trust

Ryan Lanji is guest curating the Art on a Postcard Winter Auction in support of The Hepatitis C Trust. Bidding starts at just £50 for each original postcard sized artwork and is open until 14 October via Givergy.

Of course, successful treatment does not mean I am protected another Hepatitis C infection – I still need to protect myself as I would from any other sexually transmitted infection – but today, I’m healthy and I rarely feel the need to speak about this chapter of my life.

However, when I was invited to guest-curate Art on a Postcard’s Winter Auction in aid of The Hepatitis C Trust (whose mission is to eradicate the virus by 2030) I knew it was time to share my story again.

I want my story to be a reminder that there is no shame in getting tested (Picture: Brendan Hepworth)

I’m proud to be part of an auction that features incredible artists such as Sarah Maple and Sunil Gupta and is raising money for such a worthwhile cause, especially as the timing couldn’t be more important.

The UK has the chance to eliminate this virus in the next five years: England has already met the WHO target for blood safety and the number of people living with chronic Hepatitis C in the country has fallen dramatically since 2015.

But every person that gets tested brings us closer to eradicating the disease entirely.

If nothing else, I want my story to be a reminder that there is no shame in getting tested, no matter what traumatic experiences may have led you to that point, and that it is actually an act of self-love.

So, be safe. Be responsible. And get tested.

Do you have a story you’d like to share? Get in touch by emailing James.Besanvalle@metro.co.uk.

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