A man I met once at a bar has decided to devote himself to my care, and his enthusiasm for my vulnerability is so great that I have to block his number from my phone. My friends and I sometimes joke about cancer chasers, or cancer daddies with CDs full of slow jams, the gifts showing up at the door, the outbreaks of attracted chivalry, the curious attempts at seduction. One friend suggests that whatever libidinal appeal cancer possesses has to do with the disease’s nontransmissibility. Cancer’s attraction is that it is a disease of probability rather than communicability, she tells me, and
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