Laura came to see me for a cat bite on her leg. It wasn’t looking great, so I prescribed antibiotics and asked her to come back in two days. While discussing a possible blood test for the infection, I brought up STI screening, suggesting we do both at once. She shrugged and agreed, but when I asked about unprotected sex, she laughed—completely unbothered. She admitted to having multiple partners but said she simply "doesn’t care" about using condoms. It wasn’t peer pressure—just her personal choice. Her detachment left me unsettled.

When she returned for her follow-up, the wound was healing well. I cautiously reopened the conversation about STIs. She admitted she didn’t really grasp the risks and was content staying carefree. Despite my explanations, she remained firm—she would continue having unprotected sex. So, I proposed regular STI screenings every two months. She agreed. A small victory. I also suggested asking partners about their latest tests, but she wasn’t convinced.

As she left, headphones back on, I felt a mix of failure, resignation, and reluctant acceptance. In medicine, we can’t force people to change, and that’s as it should be. But it’s tough to accept imperfect care. Laura seems confident, trauma-free, and intelligent—just completely indifferent to STI risks. Still, she keeps coming back. Maybe, in time, something will shift.

Laura saw herself as untouchable. I saw myself as powerless. And together, we found a compromise.

And you—how do you see the situation?

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