A man named Mike Smith went to his doctor after a long illness. The doctor, after a lengthy examination, sighed and looked Mike in the eye and said, “I’ve some bad news for you… you have a cancer and it can’t be cured. I give you two weeks to a month.” Mike, who was shocked and saddened by the news, but of solid character, managed to compose himself and walk from the doctor’s office into the waiting room. There he saw his son, who had been waiting.
Mike said, “Son, we celebrate when things are good and we celebrate when things don’t go so well. In this case, things aren’t so well. I have cancer and I’ve been given a short time to live. Let’s head for the pub and have a few pints.” After three or four pints, the two were feeling a little less somber. There were some laughs, some tears, and more beers.
They were eventually approached by some of Mike’s old friends who asked what the two were celebrating. Mike told them that my family has tradition of celebrating the good and the bad. He went on to tell them that they were drinking to his impending end. He told his friends, “I’ve only got a few weeks to live as I have been diagnosed with AIDS.” The friends gave Smith their condolences and they all had a few more beers. After his friends left, Mike’s son leaned over and whispered in confusion, “Dad, I thought you said that you were dying from cancer. You just told your friends that you were dying from AIDS.” Mike replied, “I am dying from cancer, son. I just don’t want any of them sleeping with your mother after I’m gone.”