—Well, we’re all dying, aren’t we?
-True, but we aren’t all full of fucking cancer cells.
—You don’t have to be rude; I was just trying to help.
—He shouldn’t say it so much, not in front of the children.
-What, “cancer”?
—They shouldn’t hear words like that.
-Mum, he’s dying of cancer, they know.
—It makes your sister upset, too.
-What? That my husband’s dying of cancer?
— No, that word.
—He’s not how he used to be.
-It’s hard, he’s miserable and exhausted from the chemo.
—He did talk about chemo a lot at dinner.
-I know, I’m sorry.
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