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  • Shared Experiences

    Walter's hep C story: plan A or plan B

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    There are lots of ways to conclude a driving holiday across America. Flying home quietly with swags of duty free, a Monica Lewinsky t-shirt and a good novel is one way. Being ordered to strip down to your underwear and walk six times through a security gate that emits a blood curdling shriek each time you pass through, is another.
    It was the late 1990s, the era of the Unabomber. He’d announced that LA airport would be blown up the day of my departure, so security was amped up. It was a mystery to me why, practically naked, I continued setting off the metal detectors. I pleaded with the militia that they could do whatever tests they liked just so long as I could get dressed. Finally they let me onto my flight. Some months later, still thinking I had nothing more than a good travel story, I came across an article about haemochromatosis and how in extreme cases it can even be picked up by security checks at airports. A few tests later and I tested positive for…
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