"So there's nothing you can do?" April asked, dejected. The doctor looked at her sympathetically and said nothing for a long moment.
"I'm sorry, April," the doctor said, shaking her head slowly. "But it's such a rare condition that there's very little research on it. We know what it is and what it does, but that's pretty much the limit of our knowledge. I can try prescribing some other skin creams, but..." her voice trailed off, leaving April little doubt as to the likelihood of success.
For months April had been getting horrible blemishes on her face. They had come without warning, appearing on her face one morning. Despite everything April and Dr. Cohen had tried, they had gotten worse. April could hardly bear to look at herself in the mirror anymore. And now she was being told there was nothing that could be done! She felt close to tears.
The doctor saw that April was near to crying and she wanted to offer something, anything to give her patient some hope.
"April," Dr. Cohen began and then hesitated. She had already decided against giving this piece of information to April. But the pitiful look in her patient's eyes was affecting her medical judgment. She wanted to offer something besides condolences.
"April," she began again. "There is one thing that..." Dr. Cohen faltered. This was a mistake. But April looked up with a look so full of expectation that the doctor continued in spite of her judgment. "One thing," she continued, "that you could try. I want to emphasize that there are no conclusive studies that support this. But there is anecdotal evidence that..." Again the doctor had to stop.
She looked at April. April was in her mid-twenties, cute in a shy, reserved kind of way. Dr. Cohen didn't even know if April was sexually active. If she wasn't, this information could be worse than useless. But the look on April's face made it impossible for the doctor to stop now. It wasn't hope or desperation, but might have been some mix of the two.
"April, there are some isolated cases where women have claimed that... that they've found something to clear up the blemishes." How the hell was she going to say this to this sweet young girl?
"Wh.. what is it?"
"Semen," Dr. Cohen said after an awkward pause. "Male semen," she added needlessly. Like there was some other kind! She saw April's eyes get wide and wondered if this hadn't been a dreadful mistake.
"What?" April's voice was barely a whisper, her eyebrows registering disbelief.
"Yes, well," Dr. Cohen told her, trying to regain her own sense of professionalism. "There have been cases--not proven, mind you--where women ingesting semen have seen dramatic results, even complete suppression of symptoms."
"Suppression of symptoms?" April asked dubiously.
"Yes," Dr. Cohen said. "In those cases, the underlying cause, which is viral, is not eliminated. But the symptoms--the blemishes--are, well, gone. Or at least drastically reduced." The doctor shrugged. There wasn't much more she could tell April than that.
"But how... uh, where..." April asked, confused.
"I can't write you a prescription for that," the doctor said wryly. "You're on your own. What I will tell you is that the women who have, uh, used this particular treatment have said that they needed to, um... have it at least three times a week and in some cases, daily. The quantity that you would get would vary from man to man and with the frequency of the, uh, donations that you got from them."
April sat there, once again looking quite hopeless. The doctor looked at her thoughtfully.
"Look, there's probably not enough practical evidence for me to have even brought it up," she told her patient. "But maybe you have a girlfriend or someone who could, you know, help you. I'm not saying you should try it, I'm simply telling you that I don't have anything better to offer you. I can still prescribe some other ointments..."
April sat there, staring at Dr. Cohen, not sure what to say. Should she tell the doctor that she had been intimate with only three men in her life? And that she had "ingested" very little semen in any event. The fact that she had no boyfriend, or even any prospects, made the situation hopeless all over again. What could she do? The blemishes were horrible and she wanted them gone at any cost. But... but this was a different problem. Where would she even start? Three times a week to daily? Oh--My--God!!
* * * * *
April left the doctor's office in somewhat of a daze. The doctor could offer no medicine to rid April of the hated blemishes. Worse, there was a chance that something could help her. But it was a cure that dangled beyond her reach. Sure, if she had a boyfriend, she would probably try it. What was there to lose? But since she didn't have one, and wasn't likely to get one with her face looking like this, the faint hope the doctor had tried to offer was really no hope at all.
When April got home, she decided to search the internet for more information on her affliction. Not that Dr. Cohen wouldn't have been thorough, but April just had to hope that there was something out there her physician didn't know about. Something. Anything.
Most of what April found was on medical sites and only served to confirm what her doctor had told her. She was about to give up when she came across a personal website that had been started by a woman suffering the same affliction. April clicked on the site and anxiously read the woman's account of her own struggle with the blemishes. Most of it was spookily similar to April's own experiences. The pictures posted were also horribly familiar.
April read everything posted, feeling the bond of shared suffering between herself and this anonymous woman. Near the bottom was an entry dated months later than any of the other postings. It was of a decidedly more positive tone. It was absent any specifics, but for some reason gave April a sense of hope. It included an appeal for any woman suffering from this disease to contact the site's owner for important information. An email address was given.
April, ordinarily leery of making contact with strangers, even via email, didn't hesitate. She quickly typed a brief email, stating that she, too, had this awful condition and had been told by her doctor there was little or no hope of a cure. Had this woman found one? April asked the woman to please pass on any helpful information and signed her name.
She sent the email then sat waiting, starting expectantly at the screen for several minutes. Realizing that it could be hours, days or even weeks before she got a reply, April got up and went about the rest of her day.
That night she had a reply. April quickly clicked on it and read through it once, then again. It was rather to the point.
"Dear April, I don't know you or what kind of person you are, so I apologize in advance if any of this offends you. There is only one thing that has ever worked for me in getting rid of the blemishes. It has worked for well over three years now with almost no relapses. It is sperm. I have to swallow at least four or five good sized loads a week to maintain a clear complexion, sometimes more, if I see any signs of an impending breakout.
