HOW SEK HID CANCER FROM HIS WIFE

(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.

"Sad 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."

"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.)

THE END

Comments

[Prefer not to.]

Frodo: I wish the ring had never come to me. I wish none of this had happened.
Gandalf: So do all who live to see such times. But that is not for them to decide. All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given to us. There are other forces at work in this world Frodo, besides the will of evil.

[Doctor Memory]

...and how many days did it take to recover from the beating your wife laid upon you?

[hermit greg]

That is one of the most boneheaded thing I have ever heard of. I hope she punched you. Hard.

[Rich Puchalsky]

Eh -- there could be advantages to other people in having Scott's story out there. Imagine this scene:

(Husband staggers in, looking depressed and hung over.)
Wife: What's wrong? You look like this all the time now.
Husband: Dunno.
Wife: Well I do! I've been following you, and I think that you're going to a club, getting drunk, having sex with all kinds of people and then feeling guilty about it. Tell me, is that it?
Husband: Well, do you remember reading Scott Eric Kaufman's blog about how he hid his cancer from his wife to try to spare her?
Wife: Oh, I'm so sorry I didn't trust you. You must have been dealing with so much all this time. Is it cancer?
Husband: No, I've actually been getting drunk and sleeping with people. But it could have been cancer! Now think -- at least it's not cancer. Would you really have wanted me to go through that?
Wife: I guess not. But I'm so pissed off now that maybe I would.
Husband: See why I was cheating on you? You want me to get cancer!

[SEK]

Hey! No piling on!

As for my boneheadedness, yes, I admit it, I was an idiot.

BUT!

I'm underplaying the depths of my depression here. I was really in a terrible place, of the sort that some people don't come back from, and thought I was doing my wife a favor by not telling her ... which should be indication enough of the state of mind I was in. (Not that I'm defending my actions, mind you.)

And Rich, I'm no enabler.

[SEK]

Another way to say this: I make light of things because that's what I do. (And considering what happens to me, imagine where I'd be if I didn't.) I only hope no one judges me on the basis of how I behaved when my thyroid rebelled and flooded my system with hormones ... because I behaved poorly. Irrationally. Did things I wouldn't otherwise have done. Thought things I wouldn't otherwise have thought. I'm not abdicating responsibility for what I did and thought while in the throws, but a little understanding would be appreciated.

That said, I did receive a bit of the beating I so richly deserved. Fortunately, my wife punches like a girl. (ducks) (unducks, is decked)

[Rich Puchalsky]

Well, you are enabling some jokes that may or may not be funny. ("At least it's not cancer!" is classic Jewish humor, so it's traditional, anyway.)

[Rich Puchalsky]

Actually, at least one person thought the joke in my comment above was funny. But I have to admit that when she told me to never hide any kind of serious health problems from her and I looked at her incredulously, we both laughed a lot more, and agreed that I would have started at least five oh-no-what-if-it's-cancer? discussions before the first doctor visit.

No one's judging you, Scott. It's either laugh or get depressed at the fragility of human life, basically.

[SEK]

No, Rich, that was funny. It was all the stuff about the beatings (FLASHBACKS!) that (FLASHBACKS!) were (FLASHBACKS!) disturbing (FLASHBACKS!) me (FLASHBACKS!).

[hermit greg]

It's just that the beating was entirely the right response by your wife, no matter the depression that led to it.

But I won't be incredulous about it any more, especially since at the moment, and given my own wife's tendency to worry, I'm sympathetic to keeping secrets...

[Jodi]

Ohmygod. This is horrible. And unreal. It would be a terrible movie because it is completely unconvincing. No one has this many awful things happen to them in such a short time (I laughed at Rich's 'at least it's not cancer'). Good luck seems too trivial a thing to say, but I hope things turn out better. Also, I admire your sense of humor.

[JPool]

Scott,
I think that it is to some extent a question of tone. You're a consumate storyteller, and so sometimes hold off or, as you note, underplay some key aspects of the story that would make it less dramatic, but also more understandable/sympathizable. This is the second time I think I've run into you telling this story, and both times it came out as a part of a larger discussion of cancer and/or woes, and so people understanbly respond, "Oh that's awful! -- Wait, what?"
Having known many people who suffered with depression, including having lost my brother to it, I think I understand more than most the decisions that such folks make that seem perfectly rational and even considerate to them at the time, but are in fact pretty thoroughly crazy.
Hope your check-up went well.

[Fritz]

That's some kind of awesome you've got going on there.

[SEK]

Jodi, thanks for that. More and more often, I think things have to normalize -- law of averages and all -- but then the library steals all my money, or I find pictures of a friend's husband having sex with hundreds of women, and then I remember: no, apparently this is the life I was born to lead. The humor's Jewish to the core, in that it has more than a hint of resignation.

Fritz, I'm not sure "awesome" is the word other people would use to describe it. They prefer more violent terms.

JPool, this is something I certainly need to be more attentive to:

You're a consummate storyteller, and so sometimes hold off or, as you note, underplay some key aspects of the story that would make it less dramatic, but also more understandable/sympathizable.

(More attentive to? Shouldn't that be of? No matter.)

But the strange thing is, the post pretty much accords with my memory of the events. This could very well be an artifact of having told the story on numerous occasions -- there's two ways to hone material: 1) do it conversation, see how it works best, then put it on the blog (this post) or 2) bang it out on the blog, never figure out quite how to tell it, then refer people to the blog ("My Morning"). Ideally, I'd go with the first option, but that means the constant reiterations will shape the narrative; whereas when I shape it for the blog, the story becomes almost untellable. (I certainly can't tell "My Morning" as well in person, if only because I don't remember my dialogue.) (Maybe I should learn it? No, wait, that's insane.) (Then again, given how often I'm asked to repeat it ... my life, now a performance. Great, just great.)

As to this particular event:

I think I understand more than most the decisions that such folks make that seem perfectly rational and even considerate to them at the time, but are in fact pretty thoroughly crazy.

This was certainly the case with me. I made what were, to my mind, a series of rational decisions. I even thought I was being considerate in keeping the information to myself, since my wife and parents are so busy. Why worry them? They have enough on their plates. In retrospect, obviously the wrong decision, but there's a hint of rationality to it, desperate though it may be.

I'm sorry to hear about your brother.

[Fritz]

Full-on, mouth-opened, wow. Heavy emphasis on the awe. A little bit of dread and certainly appalling.

Add the library fine thing and that's something clearly in line with what Samuel Rutherford meant way back in 1671.

[Fritz]

"A sight of his cross is more awsome than the weight of it."

[Rich Puchalsky]

"or I find pictures of a friend's husband having sex with hundreds of women"

So that's what the really angry guy was angry about? The one who was posting porn here to try to get you in trouble?

Wait a minute, my mind boggles. Do I even want to ask how you found these pictures? I mean, was this "I don't think he'll mind if I look in his desk to borrow a pen" and then oops? Or was it the Google search for pictures of your friend that turns up, wait a minute, doesn't that guy look familiar?

And how do you know it was hundreds of women? I imagine a marathon counting session, memorizing distinctive birthmarks or something so you can tell one relatively nondescript person from another. I can't help myself from making another playlet:

Scott: I'm sorry to have to tell you this, but...
Scott's friend: What is it?
Scott: Your husband has been having sex with hundreds of women.
Scott's friend: (incredulous) What?
Scott: Hundreds.
Scott's friend: How do you know -- wait. It can't be hundreds. Don't you just mean a lot?
Scott: Accuracy is very important to me! You know how careful I am with my research.
Scott's friend: So you counted them?
Scott: All right, there were 205. Or maybe 204, it was hard to tell whether one shot was of him with twins, or a kind of double exposure thing.
Scott's friend: 204?
Scott: Or 205. But I thought it would sound better to say hundreds than 205. I mean, who would believe 205?
Scott's friend: 194, now...
Scott: Yeah.
Scott's friend: 194 wouldn't sound so bad.
Scott: If I could have said 194, I would have said 194. But I had to be honest.

No, this is getting too absurd.

[SEK]

That's a fairly accurate description of what happened, actually. Just insert screams of disbelief and death threats and you pretty much have it.

For some reason -- well, I know the reason: because I'm back on my thyroid medication and simultaneously exhausted and energetic -- I forgot the details of that incident weren't in the public sphere. 'Gads, but I'm dumb sometimes.

[alkau]

When you look at your family and all the troubles we have faced, understanding what happens and how you react to it makes sense, but if you ever hide serious things from us again we just might disown you while we keep your wonderful wife. Thinking positive gets you past bad things and we are always here to help in any way we can.

[The Little Womedievalist]

And, uh, YEAH! What everyone else said... and then some. Bumblehead. (Miss you!)