Spring is gorgeous here, cherry and pear trees in full bloom, tulip buds coloring up, and a new hummingbird at the feeder. The longer days are rushing by. Our house is decorated for Easter and still sports the balloons and flowers some dear friends gave me at a celebratory lunch after the end of radiation therapy. I am still immersed in post-cancer reading but am trying to balance it with humor.
Last week, I attended a 1-day conference for cancer survivors. Not just breast, but any type of cancer. Lots of sessions to choose from — exercise, mindfulness, sexuality after cancer (with toys and samples!) and yes, humor. This session included a story about Linda Hill, who has survived four rounds of cancer and started her own line of T-shirts. The slogans on these shirts include:
I lost my colon but I’m still full of crap.
Of course they’re fake, the real ones tried to kill me!
Mastectomy: $12,000. Radiation: $30,000. Chemotherapy: $11,000. Never wearing a bra again: Priceless.
(I was reviewing my insurance statements this week and can attest to the fact that the cost of radiation is indeed $30,000 or more.)
If this sort of humor interests you or you just gotta have one of those shirts, you can find more on her web site:
The keynote speaker at the conference was Debra Jarvis, a chaplain who works at the Seattle Cancer Care Alliance. She’s written several books about dealing with chronic disease and based her talk on her own experience with breast cancer. But before she began her message, she stepped out from behind the podium , grabbed her right breast with one hand and pointed at it with the other, saying “You want to know which one is fake?? It’s this one!” And then she calmly stepped back behind the podium, explaining that, if she didn’t point out the reconstructed breast early, the audience members would spend most of her speaking time trying to figure out which one it was and miss the whole talk.
I have to say it — her gimmick worked, and the audience was very alert. She had humorous stories to tell, but her message was serious: It’s not about the hair. We all have to find our own meaning in the dark experience that shakes us awake, and once awakened, we must not go back to sleep.
Here’s a link to her website: http://www.debrajarvis.com/
And a hilarious article she wrote for Cure magazine about dealing with a certain intimate problem in the aftermath of chemo. Beware, it‘s a little racy: http://www.curetoday.com/index.cfm/fuseaction/article.show/id/2/article_id/1246
The Association for Applied and Therapeutic Humor defines therapeutic humor as “any intervention that promotes health and wellness by stimulating a playful discovery, expression, or appreciation of the absurdity or incongruity of life’s situations.”
Yeah, well, nothing like a boring definition to take the fun out of things. Thankfully, the association itself appears to be little more joyful and lists lots of resources and links to fun (if slightly academic) materials and websites. I plan to check out the link to Clowns Without Borders.
For additional overanalysis of fun, there’s also the International Society for Humour Studies (www.hnu.edu/ishs/) with its many links. One of these is to a scholarly organization called the International Society for Luso-Hispanic Humor Studies, which tracks the study and appreciation of humor wherever Spanish and Portuguese are spoken.
I’m glad to know people are laughing in other languages. But the names of these organizations make me think the members have missed the point.
So if what you really want to do is laugh, not study it, there’s the World Laughter Tour (www.worldlaughtertour.com). This group tells us that April is humor month (get ready! They‘ve got free resources on the website), and World Laughter Day is coming up on May 2. And if you want to join a laughter group, get in touch with them. Think globally, laugh locally.
Now that’s my kind of support group.