Thanks, all y'all assholes.
Now. I wonder if that perfect little lovenest - where rain falls aplenty for the pluviophiles, and where they dine upon meals fit for a king or queen, where there are never any differences of opinions on....anything at all on this here planet, where they stay busy from dawn to dusk - would falter if Hamber could absolutely not convince her My Gorlfriend, Wipey, that yes, she had cancer, yes, she was a patient at that center, yes, she had at least one followup, yes, she fit in the CT bore for scans, yes, her bloodwok came back faster, than her hoovering a plate of orange chiken, yes, that bloodwork was perfect, yes, the NP said "Pffft! Gorl, don't be takin' that sheee-it, it gon kill you!"
Shorter version: just how much of a grifter is her My Gorlfriend, Wipey? Are her morals so low that she'd continue the charade of "Let's sue them and retire!" Or does she have even one iota of morality in her that this crosses the line. Philosophically, most people treat cancer shit as the third rail, and for good reason, since it's one of the most devastating things that can happen to people, and most people are not complete degenerates.
If the shit hit the fan in the "luxery" apartment over this, the meltdown would be epic/ And we'd need lots and lots of popcorn.
I'll just leave this here. Imagine this terror,
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LOLOLOL