I don't know what came over me when I let my friend take me to the hospital. To see the sick kids and cheer them up, she said. As much as cheering up sick kids would work for that little voice inside of my head that they say is my conscience, I chose to want to ignore that voice.

She would not let me ignore it. The classic "I thought we were friends! Friends do these sorts of things for each other," line was used. True, I was a friend, but I was not a fan of little kids. True, we were both in medical school, but hospital visits were not necessary until some time away. Eventually she wore me down and I agreed to it. Friends have a way of doing that to you.

You can't say I wasn't a good friend, at least.

And so we went. An entire section of the hospital, devoted to children. I heard a whimper followed by a cry of pain coming from an open door. Somehow I didn't think that my presence would make that pain go away.

She went ahead and talked to a nurse, who seemed to be expecting us. The nurse had this huge smile on her face. Always happy, these people. Strange.

I was escorted to a room that contained a boy with his parents. Well, maybe "escorted" is the wrong word. "Dragged" sounds like a better word. The nurse introduced me as a "special visitor for you, Stanley."

Stanley didn't look like much. He was thin, dressed in a hospital gown that was a couple sizes too big for him. It made him look even smaller. His parents were at his side. His father had a book in his hands and was obviously reading it to him before I so rudely interrupted. His mother was running her hand through his hair.

I did not know what to say. Stanley did. Of course. He started to fire off a bunch of questions at me. Who are you? You're here to visit me! I don't get much visitors but lately I've been getting some more other than my family. Do you know that nice lady who came last week? Did she send you here?

His parents calmed him down to a rate of one sentence at a time and eventually I started talking to him. Over time, I started to get less and less apprehensive about the whole visitation idea. Stanley was quite the interesting character. He had been in and out of hospital for as long as he could remember. But he would get better soon, and he would grow into a good man. He wanted to be a doctor, like those doctors who were taking care of him.

I told him I was going to be a doctor in a few years. His eyes lit up and he said that he wanted to be just like me. And he would go and talk to all the little kids who couldn't go outside and play soccer or baseball just like I was doing with him.

This Stanley really got to me. I never thought a little kid would change my mind so radically about the whole hospital-visit idea. We talked for quite some time. I didn't realise how quickly the visiting hours ended. I left and promised to come back the next week. His parents thanked me for everything. I felt really good about everything. I was glad my friend had convinced me to come after all.

I met my friend in the hallway near the nurses' station and I could not wait to tell her about things. I mentioned Stanley and how he wanted to grow up to be a doctor just like we were studying to be.

"That's if he grows up..." her voice trailed off into nothingness as she looked down at the floor nervously.

"What do you mean? He wants to grow up to be just like us!" I was confused. "He didn't look THAT sick."

"He wants to grow up to be a doctor. But there's one thing he wants before that."

"Well, what? Maybe I could help him out if I can."

"I don't think you'd be able to. See, he also wants a working kidney."

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