Why do people run from the stench of death?

I've found that I can hobble, puke, and struggle along and people will share (sometimes feed or drive me) and talk with me so long as I don't tell them I'm dying of cancer. Once I say cancer, they're gone. The two only true friends I've ever had were my grandmother, and my father, and neither of them were my friend until they started dying of cancer. I never realized that until now. I've never run from the stench, but now I emit it, and am finding that a bit of perfume can keep me alive more than the truth. I guess that holds true on sooooooo many levels.