(This being the requested sequel to this post from last week.)
One summer, SEK became very depressed.
"I am sad," he thought.
Then he became very happy.
"Now I am happy!"
Then very depressed again.
He was, as they say, "moody." Eventually his throat starting swelling something awful, so he went to a doctor.
The doctor felt SEK's neck, then sent him to another doctor who ran some tests.
"You have thyroid cancer," the oncologist said.
"Can you fix it?" SEK asked.
"I can and then you will be happy."
"You won't be perpetually PMSing anymore."
"I don't understand."
"You see [insert overly-technical explanation of how the thyroid regulates hormones and how SEK's manic-depressiveness was the result of his body being flooded, then drained, of hormones], so when the chemo's finished, you won't be depressed anymore."
"But when I'm doing the chemo, I'll still be depressed?"
"And really sick," said the oncologist.
SEK returned home and saw his wife diligently working. She was so pretty and diligent. He did not want to disturb her. So, still depressed, he decided not to tell her anything. To bear it alone.
Then SEK got really sick. Not chemo-sick—he handled that like a trooper—but different sick, like he had a hangover all the time. He returned to the oncologist.
"I am really sick," he said, "like I have a hangover all the time."
The doctor poked SEK's liver and declared:
"You have an invasive liver fungus. You must take these medicines which attack your liver. They will make you feel like you have a hangover all the time. Then you will be better."
SEK went home and, in a fit of inspired stupidity, told his wife about the liver fungus, but not the cancer, thinking he could use the liver fungus to hide the cancer. (From his wife, not in his body.)
This is how SEK hid cancer from his wife.
(Until he got drunk one night and told her.)