My wife is not a naturally sympathetic person, and the easiest way to earn her disinterest is for anyone to start telling her about their hysterectomy operation, or prostate problem. Should someone start describing his rheumatoid arthritis, she’ll hastily summon the cook and start discussing a fictional dinner menu, or pretend she must make an urgent call. As more of our friends join the ranks of those suffering from piles, constipation, alopecia, skin rashes and allergies, hypertension, or organ and joint replacements, my wife makes sure to not visit the recently diagnosed, or cured, to avoid their tales of misery
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