Illness the World Over

Dane Von Leper's girlfriend had terrible diarrhea. At the age of 18 he considered himself a man and to be with your loved ones in their times of need was the 'right' thing to do. He also wondered if he could get laid, possibly.
Slowly he walked in the room checking to see if Jessica was still asleep. She turned her head and smiled. Walking towards her he patted her on the head. Then Dane shit his pants.
"I'll be right back." With clenched cheeks he hobbled out of the room. The shit was everywhere and formed a pool in the back of his knees. He felt ill. Seriously ill and not just embarrassed. Dane excused himself and headed home. During the walk he continued to soil himself. Jessica no longer felt ill.
Dane recovered in just a few weeks and in turn had several visits from Jessica.
It was the night of his cousin's birthday, but unfortunately little Timothy had chicken pox. Dane left that party with a bad case of chicken pox. Timothy recovered the next day.
Events similar to this continued through the beginning of his college years. Then he met Max.
Maxine Steelseat had multiple sclerosis until she was 22 when she was assigned Dane to be her partner in a biology lab. Dane was rushed to a hospital.
Racked with pain he understood what had happened. Though the doctors did not believe him.
Wheeling him to his room he grabbed the arm of a girl suffering from bronchitis. He began to wheeze. Her coughing ceased. Medical curiosity was piqued.
Late one night as Dane lie sleeping a nurse wheeled in another patient. Her husband. He had contracted spinal meningitis. As he touched Dane's face Dane woke screaming as she wheeled her husband hastily out of the room.
The next day he was moved, secretly to another hospital. Two of the doctors attending him changed his name on the medical records.
The clandestine activities were ineffective and people had lined up at the next hospital.
Dane had regained his ability to speak. A woman brought her son to him. He had down syndrome.
"Oh fuck me." sighed Dane. Nothing happened. Her son was still handicapped. "Thank Christ!" This exclamation sent him into a coughing fit.
The police were called to keep away visitors, and though a few managed to sneak by many of the less permanent diseases had been cured. Dean felt better. He was now talking and discussing plans with a few old friends. Thsoe few who didn't feel awkward about him being in a wheelchair. Nonetheless a plan was set.
Dr. Goodheart had a ranch outside of Kirby, Wyoming. They were due to leave at 2 am on Saturday. It was a 17 hour car ride.
They had packed the necessary medical supplies. The trip was uneventful.
No one was waiting for them when they arrived and they all breathed a sigh of relief. Except for Dane, he was sleeping. He dreamt of running; from a horde of disease ridden pit-bulls.
The months rolled by uneventfully.
Until Thurday: Dane was out in the garden enjoying the fresh air. A caravan of busses were parked on the front lawn. 400 care takers and 600 terminally ill patients were waiting outside.
They rushed for Dane. Diseased fingers clamored to grasp his skin. The Dr. had called the police, but they were still another 20 minutes away.
"Leave me alone you selfish bastards!" Dane choked. Blood spouted from every orifice. The last waves of the sick only touched his dead skin. They remained ill and turned on those who were cured. The farm was littered with the recently deceased.