Have you ever wondered what it would be like to have a candid conversation with your cancer? I have. And one day, I did just that. It was something I needed to do, and I'm glad I did. It is my way of handling it. Now, the conversation is a bit satirical and, because I am Italian (my great-grandfather came "off the boat" from Palermo, Sicily), I imagined it as talking to an Italian mafia hood. My conversation with cancer went something like this. It was a bright and sunny Saturday afternoon, and Steve and his cancer, Vinny, aka "The Cancerous Thug," are having a chat. Steve: How you doing? Vinny: I’m doing good. This thing of ours is going well, you know what I mean? Steve: Look, I don’t like you. So what the heck are you doing in my neighborhood? Vinny: I heard about this guy named Stevie Boy, who was having a good life, and I wanted to come by to mess it all up. What do you think about that, Stevie Boy? Steve: I think you are in the wrong neighborhood. And you need to get the heck out! Vinny: I don’t think so. Not so fast! You see, I heard from this kid named Soy, and his pal Estrogen, that you have been letting them run wild in the neighborhood, and that is why I am here now. Time to pay up, Stevie Boy! Steve: What are you talking about? What does this have to do with Soy and Estrogen? Vinny: It has everything to do with them. It hasn’t got nothing to do with your family. You know what? I am going to take everything from you. Starting with your pecs, nipples, your emotional stability, your confidence, your hair and then your life. You are dead! You have no idea that … I am … going to … break you. Steve: (standing up) You talking to me? You talking to me?! Vinny: Yeah, what are you going to do about it? You are noth