No to Chemo

He knows that one day he'll get cancer and that a doctor, maybe two, will recommend chemotherapy to treat it. But the Complete and Total Loser, who vomited last night for the first time in twenty years, will take a speedy death unless he's guaranteed the treatment won't involve months or even weeks of throwing up.

Someone named Minnie died fifty years ago. Someone remembered Minnie enough to put a poinsettia on her grave, which is in a small cemetery in rural Pennsylvania.

The Loser's life is shit anyway. He lives alone and always will. His parents died a year ago, and he has no wife or children. He has two brothers he sees infrequently and fewer friends he sees even less. His job is meaningless, stressful and unpleasant.
So whatever is the point? His only doable ambition is to read of few good books he's had sitting around.