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I was a virgin at 20 and dying. For months I was withering away from my disease, and had gone from 145 to 92 pounds on a 5'9" frame. I was roomed with the worst cases -- the dying, the almost sure to die. I had only a very unlikely chance to live. I remember the happy nurses and the morose ones, the pretty, the voluptuous, the fat, the ugly, the loving and kind. I remember the sponge baths and massages they'd give to me the bedridden.

Thankfully no one in responsibility made me this silly offer -- even had I expressed such a wish. I don't know what I would have done as drugged up as I was for pain.

I also remember the great longing to live so that at some point I could enjoy life once again ... all of life, and the wondrous unknown to me then sex act a part of it.

It was that will -- that will to live so as to not die a virgin -- that got me through it. Through a major surgery and fortunate recovery where I went beyond critical but came back.

Sometimes it is the carrot on the stick that keeps a jackass moving, and that great desire for life kept me alive.

The Doctor knows naught what he stole from the young man, for he may have stolen the boy's thirst for life for lack of Fatherly advice, for instead slaking the very thirst that pointed in the right direction, brings down heaven to earth and makes for miracles.