"Get this **** cancer out of me." you want to scream. And I want to do it for you. "This isn't part of me. I don't hurt inside like you do," you laugh: in the face of death, to hide the fact that you're only hanging on for me. And I feel like saying the same to you but... I laugh along and... we don't speak about it. Because we're men. and men don't fear death. we laugh in its face.
But also because if we speak these things, they might become true. and so then, what are we laughing at but the truth.