The year was 1995, and at that stage HIV was still considered a death sentence. The basketball player Magic Johnson had just come out to the world about being HIV-positive and how unprotected sex had led to his infection; rock star Freddie Mercury had died as a result of an AIDS-related disease; and tennis player Arthur Ashe was a living symbol of cruel luck after a blood transfusion had left him with the virus.

I knew that I couldn't get HIV from a toilet seat or a handshake, but despite there being almost no chance of me having the virus I remember sitting in the doctor's office with my heart beating like a bad house tune. At that moment I swore to myself that if I was HIV-positive I would find a way to kill myself and that if I had been spared (for HIV seemed like a divine being's punishment in those days) I would never, ever have sex with anyone without using a condom.

In those days there was no pre-test counselling, and waiting for the test results took ages. The test was very impersonal. Arm out, vein found, blood drawn and off you go. It wasn't a process that filled me with confidence.

I can't remember how long I waited for my results, but I do know that when they came back negative you would have been excused for thinking I'd won the lottery. I was so happy. And I wasn't the only one who thought HIV infection was around every corner. I was under strict instructions from my friends to let them know as soon as I had got my results and to tell them if I was “okay” – despite them knowing my sexual history, or lack of it. I think in some ways they hoped that if I was negative then they would be negative too.

The second time I got tested was much, much, much scarier. This time I did have a reason to be afraid. The condom I'd been using had broken during sex and the person I was having sex with wasn't too concerned about HIV. I still was.

I still am.

The year was 2001 and the HIV infection rate was rocketing exponentially upwards. Deaths attributed to opportunistic diseases seemed to account for every second person and Africa was the nexus of these deaths. Tests now took a day and there was pre-testing counselling of sorts. But, despite this, I still felt that HIV represented a death sentence.

Before this sexual encounter, every other sexual episode had either been in a committed long-term relationship, or with a non-breaking condom. Rightly or wrongly I had felt completely safe up until that point, and suddenly my naive feelings of safety were stripped away.

The result was that I sat in the doctor's office a thousand kilometres from home, a thousand kilometres from my family and friends, literally shaking with fear.

When I walked into the doctor's office and told him what happened, he went pale and told me I was in deep trouble, spouting HIV-related statistics like “one in four, age group at the most risk”. I wish I was joking. I've never been so scared in my life.

Looking back on it seven years later, I can only be grateful that the test came back negative.

I still get tested, not as often as I should – twice a year is recommended – and it still scares me, but I'd much rather know my own status than have the constant fear of not knowing. HIV/AIDS may not be the death sentence it once was, but even ignoring the stigma, AIDS is still a chronic condition, akin to cancer.

There are people who smoke and think that cancer won't happen to them and the same can be said of some people who have unprotected sex. The difference is that you can't give cancer to someone if you have it. You can, however, endanger someone else's health and forever change someone's life if you have sex with him or her and you're HIV-positive.

And even if that didn't play a part in my reasoning, I really don't want to sit in another waiting room at a clinic or a doctor's office, praying that in the lottery of life I'm coming out a winner.

There is still no cure for HIV and yet the prevalence of infection is still spiralling out of control despite the risk. Contracting HIV may no longer be the death sentence it was when I first got tested in 1995, but people are still dying in alarming numbers as a result of opportunistic diseases. None of us are immune.

So think very carefully the next time you decide to have sex: do you want to the one sitting, waiting to be tested, terrified that your whole life is going to change?