I usually don’t get nervous patients on Monday mornings. But she was already in the waiting room when I arrived — coat half-off, phone in her hand, biting the inside of her cheek like it owed her money.

She was in her late twenties. Smart. Direct. Said this wasn’t her usual doctor, but she “needed to talk to someone who wouldn’t sugarcoat it.”

She opened with a line I’ll never forget: “I Googled too much and now I think my life is over.”

Spoiler: it wasn’t.

Turns out she had a rash — not the first of its kind, not the worst, just... one too many. And this time, a cold sore showed up somewhere it wasn’t supposed to. She'd already done the Reddit dive, WebMD panic scroll, and that one friend who means well but always whispers when they say the word herpes.

So, yes. She was terrified.

I ran the tests. In the meantime, we talked. About the stigma. About the way even doctors sometimes flinch when that word comes up. About how no one teaches you that HSV is one of the most common viruses on Earth and also one of the most misunderstood.

When the results came back, she already knew. She didn’t cry. She didn’t panic. She just said, “Okay. What now?”

What now was Acyclovir. 400 mg, taken a few times a day, especially during outbreaks. Not a cure, but not a curse either. We talked dosage, safety, side effects, and suppression. We talked about living, not just treating.

Then we talked about the next conversation — the one she was scared to have. Telling someone she was dating. Telling someone she liked. That’s the part they never put on the prescription label.

So we drafted a message. Together. Just a few honest lines. Clear. Respectful. No shame in it.

Two weeks later, I got an email. The guy responded with: “Thanks for telling me. I appreciate the honesty. Let’s figure it out together.”

She said it felt like the first time in weeks she could exhale.

Acyclovir didn’t fix everything. But it gave her a way to stop hiding. A name for what she was dealing with. And just enough breathing room to realize this wasn’t the end — just a different kind of beginning.

I’ve prescribed antivirals thousands of times. But I only remember the ones like this.

Not because of the pill. But because of the person.

Told by Dr. Walter Moore, Urologist – New York City