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When I nestled into Laura's back in the night, I was afraid because I didn't want to lose her, and we always lose someone, or they lose us, in the end. I'd rather not take the risk. I'd rather not come home from work one day in ten or twenty years' time to be faced with a pale, frightened woman saying that she'd been shitting blood -- I'm sorry, I'm sorry, but this is what happens to people -- and then we go to the doctor and then the doctor says it's inoperable and then . . . . I wouldn't have the guts, you know? I'd probably just take off, live in a different city under an assumed name, and Laura would check in to the hospital to die and they'd say, "Isn't your partner coming to visit?" and she'd say, "No, when he found out about the cancer he left me." Great guy! "Cancer? Sorry, that's not for me! I don't like it!" Best not to put yourself in that position. Best leave it all alone.