This was only one of several instances on the job that could have resulted in me contracting a bloodborne disease. And that’s a threat that many of us who wear a badge face every day.
In another incident, a partner officer and I stopped a motorist who exited his car of his own volition. As he walked toward me, the nature of his addiction was so readily apparent that the first thing I asked him was about the location of his hype kit. He told me that it was under the front seat of the vehicle. Assured that at least one potential threat was verbally accounted for, I had the man turnaround so I could conduct a cursory pat down search of his person for my safety. I asked him if he had any weapons or other needles on his person. He said, “No.”
At the time I was not in the habit of wearing gloves and, as I was patting him down, my hand came in contact with the right rear pocket of man's pants. I immediately felt something prick my skin. I didn't have to look to know what had happened. My finger had been punctured by one of the addict’s needles that was shoved into his back pocket.
We ended up taking the man the local hospital where we had his blood drawn—not in a manner to my liking—to make sure that he didn't have any communicable diseases. After sweating the results, I was told that I had nothing to do be worried about. This news, coupled with my own snooping into statistics and discovery that of a thousand accidental contaminated needle punctures perhaps only three percent contract the AIDS virus, gave me some degree of comfort.
I learned later that I had been worried about the wrong disease. AIDS gets all the ink, but the real cop killer among blood borne diseases is Hepatitis C.