Strengthening Your Funny Bone

Strengthening Your Funny Bone

About a month before my diagnosis I was a reporter for a local paper and writing a story about the new cancer support group at the local hospital. I interviewed Marc for the story and visited his office. When I walked by the chemo room, I glanced in at all the patients in recliners hooked up to IVs. It was an incredibly scary picture to me. But what was even scarier was that the patients were laughing. I remember thinking that they must not know they had cancer because how could people with cancer ever laugh? I went home that day and told my husband, “If I ever had cancer, I definitely would not be sitting there laughing.”

Four weeks later when I was diagnosed with colon cancer, I definitely was not laughing. When I went for my first chemo treatment in August 1990, I was so frightened I knew I would never laugh while hooked up to an IV getting toxic chemicals.

But that was before I met Marc’s head chemo nurse, Ruth, who had been with him since he opened his office in 1989. I can’t recall what silly thing she uttered, but before I knew what had happened, she had me laughing too.

There was still nothing funny about having cancer or getting chemo or not knowing if I would see my daughters grow up, but every time I laughed it felt so good and reminded me that I was still alive.

So I decided I needed to keep my sense of humor and started to look for funny things in spite of my serious predicament.

One of the first things my family found to joke about was the new chemo pill I took—levamisole. It was a newly approved oral medicine, and I was the first patient at Marc’s office to take it. I soon learned that in reality it was a worming medicine designed to kill intestinal parasites in sheep and dogs.

Whenever I took a pill, I started barking and chasing my squealing daughters around the house. My husband mentioned to our friends that I had been dewormed and he was thinking of getting me a rabies shot too. The pills were very expensive, and my husband often suggested we call the vet to see if we could get them cheaper there. (A regular comedian, huh?)

My support groups have a reputation for a lot of laughing, and every time we laugh together, it reminds us that we are still alive . . . and that always is worth celebrating. If you don’t have a funny oncology nurse or a laughing support group nearby (or a comedian husband!), here are a few suggestions to “strengthen your funny bone” from former MLB pitcher and cancer survivor Dave Dravecky’s ministry newsletter:

• Start your own comedy collection of jokes and cartoons. (Do an Internet search for “clean jokes,” and you’ll find some good laughs. Post them at your desk or on your fridge so you can remind yourself to laugh.)
• Get your groceries and get a chuckle. Read some of the tabloid headlines while standing in the checkout line. (I just read about aliens with anorexia and manure as a miracle cure for arthritis!)
• Hang out at the greeting card racks. Enjoy perusing funny cards (wash your hands first, and don’t eat an ice cream cone while you do this!). You can even buy a comical card to brighten someone’s day. (One day at work I received a card with an odd-looking old man on the front, which said, “I bet I can still float your boat . . . even if I don’t have both oars in the water!” It was from my wonderful husband to cheer me up.)
• Become a humorous-people groupie. Hang out with funny people, like my dear friend “Grandma” Doris, a seventy-nine-year-old, three-time colorectal cancer survivor, who often livens up our meeting introductions by wearing goofy glasses or showing off her silly souvenirs. (Either you’re a funny friend or you need one!)
• Make the most of embarrassing moments. (Did I tell you about the time a pair of my underwear dropped out of one of the pant legs of my jeans onto the floor of a Christian bookstore while I was shopping there? . . . Never mind.)

In his book The Purpose Driven Life, Rick Warren writes that our first purpose in life is to please God. Or as Warren puts it, “The smile of God is the goal of your life.”^a

Cancer can and often does take things away from us and from our families, but it needn’t take away our goal in life—to please God, to make Him smile.

No matter what you’ve gone through or what still lies ahead—whether you have no cancer, a little cancer, or a lot of cancer—will you choose joy? Will you choose to please God and bring a smile to His face? It is your choice. You can choose to keep (or get) a sense of humor even in cancer’s shadow.

I have a prayer of blessing for you from Numbers 6:24-26 as you try to find joy today:

May the LORD bless you and protect you. May the LORD smile on you and be gracious to you. May the LORD show you His favor and give you His peace. Amen.