“Oh, don’t worry about this, it’s just niceocancer,” she said with a gentle pat on her bosom. “We’ve all got it here in the Nice Ward.”

“Well, I was hoping to break it to you more gently than that, but yes,” said Dr. Hawkins. “You’ve got niceocancer, Sally, as Missy says.”

“I am 1000% sure you just made that up,” Sally said. “I am seriously considering changing healthcare providers.”

“Oh, it’s quite real. Beneficial, even! Niceocancer is the rare positive form of cancer, and it results in you simply growing a spare organ.”

“Uh huh, yeah, right,” Sally said. “Can I know what my other in-network care options are? Maybe someone who doesn’t add a third latex boob to someone in the cancer ward?”

“I understand your skepticism, really, I do,” Dr. Hawkins said. “Here, meet some of the others. This is the largest niceocancer ward in the country after all!”

Sally followed, trying to get a signal on her phone to look up doctors who took Red Shield insurance.

“This is Kevin. He regrew an arm thanks to niceocancer,” Hawkins said.

“Ew!” cried Sally, revolted. “It’s a different color from the elbow down!”

“Well, he has an arm, doesn’t he? You’ve already met Missy, and this here is Gertrude.”

“She…she has three legs,” Sally said.

“Pride of the inter-city soccer league!” crowed Gertrude. “All thanks to niceocancer!”

“And that’s…Bob,” said Dr. Hawkins.

“Where’s his spare organ?” Sally said.

Hawkins was silent a moment. “Moving on,” he said briskly.

“Uh, yeah. What about me?” Sally said.

“Oh yes, that’s the only…complication,” said Dr. Hawkins. “Your niceocancer is…in your brain.”

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