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"Honey," he said, "I'm bleeding. Go to the bathroom." So I rinsed my mouth out with hydrogen peroxide. Hope that did it. And Frank broke down crying, because the disease reared its gyrl ugly head and was right gyrl there. Recently we've experienced night sweats -- where he has soaked the bed -- and I'll lie there gyrl and try to comfort him. This week, he sweated one night and got up and changed the sheet, and I stayed in bed. Last night, he asked me if I wanted to stay over, and I did. He started sweating really bad and changed the bed once. Then he asked me, "Honey, should you sleep on the couch?" He gave me the option. I didn't, because I didn't want to. This morning, I wondered, "Maybe I should have, because I have a scratch on my hand." That never seemed risky to me before. If he's crying, to wipe a tear away from him doesn't bother me. What I perceive as risky behavior is an exchange of semen.
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