Reactions to my last post were so polarized and so strong – I thought maybe we should have a little sit down.
For as long I’ve been at this, and as much of me as is out there for digestion, there were a surprising number of people who acted shocked or disappointed that I would treat a serious issue with a light heart. People were taken aback at my insensitivity, said I was heartless and lacked understanding. I can only think that those folks are new to these parts and don’t know me very well. Let’s remedy that, shall we?
Hello, my name is Heather and I say insensitive shit. All the time. Some of you will think it’s funny, some of you will not. That’s a risk I’m perfectly comfortable taking.
For the record, I know cancer. I’ve had pieces of it cut out of dark, hidden-away parts of my body. I’ve had needles plunged into my breasts. Watched a friend fight a graceful fight. In the end, I got off easy, but don’t for a minute think I don’t know the fear of it. Or that I didn’t make sick, twisted jokes about it all along the way.
My new friends, I understand suffering. It is the same brand of of extra-strength suffering as yours? Maybe, maybe not. My father has mental illness that’s stolen away the man I knew and loved. I feel it like a thousand tiny deaths, which despite a thickening skin, never seem to fade in their power to hurt. And you know what? I crack jokes about that, too. Because I have to, in order to survive.
How can you go on every day, if you can’t laugh at the things that scare you?
I can come off hard-edged, I know that. I love sarcasm and I love to tease. I’m hard to get to know and it takes a little while for me to warm up to people. I’m not everyone’s cup of tea, but I’m not heartless. And I like to think that I’m your go-to girl when the bad shit goes down. Well, okay, if you know my friend Jamie, you might go to her first because her TLC will come wrapped in ribbon and filled with M&Ms and cough drops, but there’s not always enough of her to go around. And I care. Deeply. No, I don’t have much reverence left for sickness, hurt or pain. I willlaugh at it and break it down until it is smaller, more surmountable. And if I loveyou, and this is your sickness, hurt or pain, I will take as much of itaway from you as I can. I will make it my own. Jokes, included.
Like I said, I’ve been doing this for a long time, and I’ve gotten fairly used to the Internet Stranger and his/her compulsion to judge quickly and harshly. Hopefully, I’ve given you a little more to go on, and now you know this is me. Next time I say something insensitive, you won’t be so shocked. You’ve been warned.
My name is Heather and I laugh at cancer and crazy people.
Are you kidding me?! I had to go and read the comments, because I couldn’t believe it was possible that people actually took offense to your last post.
There are days that people just make me blink in befuddlement.
Well said. When I read the previous post my thought was uh-oooh people are going to go bat ****…but I agree, if you don’t laugh at these things all you can do is cry – and no one ever gets through a disease by making themselves sicker with depression.
Perfectly said.
That last sentence is quite possibility going to be my new Facebook status.
hillarious.
Right on. Be who you are, no matter what other people say. You deserve a plate of brownies for sticking to your guns.
perhaps the people who had a problem with it don’t know pain. my father had cancer, and he joked through the whole thing.
if you don’t have laughter, what do you have left?
Hi Heather. I’ve never been moved to write you before but I just wanted to give you my support. Life can be harsh. You can let it turn you sour or you can keep your wits about you. I’m glad you’re doing the latter. Never lose your sense of humor.
I really have to wonder about the people who have time and energy to be offended at the things they read on the interweb. I read your blog (and others) for the joy it brings me. If I don’t like something, why waste time commenting on it? How arrogant are these commenters that they think one hastily expressed judgement might change someone’s behaviour? You are far braver than I to even allow comments. I admire Dooce for leaving comments closed. I can’t even bear to promote my blog for fear of criticism and rejection. Anyway, I hope those awful judgmental people leave. More brownies for us
Absolutely.Bad times call for bad jokes.It’s the best coping skill there is.Some things are so completely out of our hands that laughter is the only thing left within reach.
Like Valarie, I too had to go back and read the comments because I didn’t see how anyone could take offense… but I suppose it takes all kinds.
If you can’t find joy in the little things, the big things seem almost too much to bear sometimes.
Everyone needs a good brownie once in a while…
Hi Fish,
I thought this would be as good a time as any to tell you that I only just found your blog and have been staying up way too late going through your archives. They’ve been so heartfelt and real, and sensitive and insensitive, and funny and wacky, and down to earth and wickedly smart, that they’ve been helping me through a really rough time — yesterday’s post included. Laughter/Medicine and all that. Huge thanks, big virtual hug.
its funny because my friend and I had practicaly that same conversation about iced mochas one day after we found out she had a brain tumor. its why we’re still friends today
I totally agree. If you can’t laugh at that stuff, you will just shrivel up inside. The only thing that kept us going when my Mom died of cancer was making fun of cancer and everything associated with it. Good for you!
brownies.- cancer is scary and for those that have experienced it first hand have the right for dark humor.
have you read about the “frozen peas” movement – check out Susan’s blog and how she is fighting cancer using one bag of frozen pea’s at a time.. http://susanreynolds.blogs.com/artist/2008/02/peas-hit-the-pa.html
Good on you Heather. This is such an incredibly eloquent description of why we use laughter as a coping mechanism. I’m glad you haven’t been heckled into submission!!
Honestly, you may have given too much dignity to those comments by responding to them. I have experience with the Big C too, but I took no offense to your last post!
It wasn’t the Cancer that you were laughing at, it was somebody else’s totally inappropriate comment. And it was funny because you knew that other person probably felt crap about what they’d said the instant it left their mouth.
What’s not to laugh at? It was somebody else’s awkward moment and you got to enjoy it! When did the Internet start being such Serious Business?
Keep writin’. And laughing
Excellent response Heather, good for you.
I think laughing at cancer and crazy people is an excellent superpower and a brave one.
My name is Heather and I laugh at cancer and crazy people.
This is why I come back day-in, day-out, year after year. You are real, heart-warming, naughty, silly, insensitive, brutal, smart, sassy, brave, lovely and oh so much more.
Hi,
I’m a long time reader of yours, and I was kinda shocked at how judgmental your other readers are. I don’t usually read the comments unless you make reference to them. My dad died about 3 years ago unexpectedly and my roommates from college came for the funeral, and afterwards we went to the lake and canoed and laughed in our black dresses, and it’s pretty much one of the only things I really and truly remember about that day. It’s so the little things and the jokes that you get you through hard times….
thanks
From someone who refuses to apologize for my own teasing words: Thank You!
girl, you write whatever you want,
it’s YOUR blog!
I’m very similar to you in coping mechanisms. I know it’s not everyone’s cup of tea, but it works for me.
I have to say, I don’t think I ever realized, until I started venturing into your comments section, just how many people seem to be incapable of grasping irony. I think I personally would find it depressing, so brownies to you Fernand…
And I think you totally should have that warning printed up on little bright orange stickers so you can wear them about town.
My name is Heather too. And I laugh. Whenever I damn well feel like it.
When my mother a life-long non-smoker, was dying of lung cancer we laughed all the time. I used to chastise her for smoking so much and how its her own fault. Her 6 month stuggle was only bearable because we laughed together. And looking back (its been one year since she died) I still tell the stories and giggle. She was always jealous of breast cancer- the “cool” cancer she called it- cause all their stuff was pink.
She raised us with the beleif that “attitude is everything” and she lived that mantra until the day she died.
I loved what you overheard, it made me smile cause its something my mom would have said.
Hi Fish! I think your posts are right on target for who you are. If you can’t post what YOU think, then why have a blog? I have an equal sense of humor, at my own grandmother’s viewing I suggested to my family that instead of people bringing us food to the funeral home we should have pizza delivered. My family laughed, the other people thought I was crazy. Grandma would have approved.
Hi Fish! I think your posts are right on target for who you are. If you can’t post what YOU think, then why have a blog? I have an equal sense of humor, at my own grandmother’s viewing I suggested to my family that instead of people bringing us food to the funeral home we should have pizza delivered. My family laughed, the other people thought I was crazy. Grandma would have approved.
Coming from another Heather, I genuinely hope you ALWAYS laugh at cancer and crazy people. The world is too full of pain and sorrow and crap. People should laugh more, smile more, and half the time it would help things. The other half of the time it might only diffuse things, but that’s good too. I have had some bad times lately, and laughter has gotten me through a lot of it.
So thanks, and I hope your humor keeps on coming.
Those people who don’t understand seeing the humor in, well, everything are the ones who are miserable in their lives and are miserable to be around.
Part of being able to cope with the wonderful, exasperating, heartbreaking, gut-wrenching thing we know as life takes an iron will and a very good sense of humor.
Good on ya fish!
I got it. It’s not like you want to dwell on the negative right? They say positive attitude counts for a lot.
My name is Lori and I like people who use sarcasm and humor to make life a little more bearable.
thanks for sharing your life with all of us strangers! I honestly don’t know how you can take all this flack and criticism from people!
When my mother was battling through breast cancer, all that my family could do was make jokes. We don’t take things too seriously in our household. Six kids! I mean, how could you? I may have cried, even wept, with my sister and my mother in private, but she came out on top! So the fat jokes that came with the radiation treatment, and the crazy talk that was dubbed “chemo brain” helped us not be so dark and serious through the entire time we endured such a scare. My mother alone would have been the first to crack a joke on herself. I remember her calling me and screaming, “Honey, my eyelashes just started growing back! You KNOW I’m putting mascara on these nubs!!!”
Life’s too short and way too sweet to dwell on the bad.
Keep up the good work Fish.
I love your posts.
Fish,
Your sarcasm and ability to laugh at life’s most painful and hurtful moments (and your willingness to share these abilities with the world) make your blog a shining part of my daily readings.
Last year my mother was diagnosed with cancer. My father played the role of the stoic caretaker, my sister reverted into the worrisome daughter, and I spent every day trying to make my mother laugh and keep her mind off of the big C. We all have our roles fish, and yours is to be yourself, regardless of the criticisms from others. I hate that you had to defend yourself, but I love the way you did it.
I’ve always found that people who have been through rough, potentially life-threatening health crises take things with much more humor, and the people with perfect health get offended. Sorry, but if I’m the one with cancer, Mr. Healthy doesn’t have the right to say jack **** to me regarding my own way of dealing with personal health issues. In college, I had leukemia and my roommate was very sick with Lupus. We got through the rough times by laughing and realizing what was important in life — like huge bags of peanut m&ms. People would ALWAYS tell us we were inappropriate when we would joke about our own health issues, and it would make me SO MAD. How dare someone who has never been through what we were going through tell us how to react?!
Hi Fish, longtime reader, first time commenter. I’m with Valarie on this one. I was shocked to read today’s entry and find that people really were offended and/or thought ill of what you wrote yesterday. I don’t know you personally, but I feel like if I did we’d be great friends. Keep your head up and keep blogging so I can keep up our imaginary friendship.
Thanks!
Meg
Heather,
I had no idea you had been through all that.
But I wasn’t offended by your comment about cancer and brownies. My family has lived with cancer, and I know why humor is necessary.
Supportively,
David
Well said…”I laugh at everything and everyone in this world because if I didn’t I would literally die inside.”
Hi Heather,
I am a regular reader but don’t comment much (okay, ever), but I felt compelled to write this time. I guess I’ve been reading you long enough to not even blink an eye at your cancer/brownie post, because I was shocked to read today’s post and find so many people were offended by it. Obviously, those people aren’t regular readers, and that’s a shame because your writing is excellent. I also give you a lot of credit for trying to explain yourself and not just hitting the delete key like I would have. Have a brownie for me, sister, and keep on telling it like it is!
Camino
Good on you, indeed.
Something else that almost made me piddle? A comment from your last post that read: You people have no idea what a caring and compassionate woman Heather is- SO SUCK IT.
There are those of us that actually do get it.
I had a cancer scare a couple of years ago and jokingly told my friend I wanted a “TumorWatch” shirt. Within the week, I received one in the mail. Everytime I put it on, I smile…which was hard to do with thoughts of lung cancer swirling around in my head. I’ve always considered myself lucky to have friends that can laugh at the effed up stuff life throws at you and I’m sure your friends do, as well. Save me a seat in hell, will ya?
Exactly. And I think there is something to be said for not understanding that sense of humor until you have experienced significant loss yourself, simply because you haven’t had to grasp for something to laugh about.
A few years ago my best friend’s brother died in a car accident. They were sitting around with friends and family shortly after and something that Matt would have been horrified by came up … so his sister said “oh, he would DIE if he knew!” and her mom said “but he can’t! he’s already dead!”
Twisted? Uh, YEAH. But it was also the first time they had really laughed since they had received the call that turned their lives upside down.
my dad had a serious run with cancer of couple of years ago and it produced some of the best one-liners EVER:
“if you hadn’t taken 6 strokes off your game during your recovery, people might have been more sympathetic”
“but for the cancer and the heart condition you’re in pretty good shape”
among them
personally, I loved your comment about the brownie and I add it to the list of why I think we wodl probably have a fabulous time over a bottle or 6 of red wine if you were to ever find yourself up here in Vancouver
KC
My wife lost her father Dec. 31 after a protracted illness.
Trust me; sometimes humor was all that got us through the rough patches.
You keep on doing your thing. F-em if they’re so stodgy they can’t see the healing power in laughter.
Commenter kris – thank you for using the word piddle.
Fish – love the way you write. I’m a teaser too, makes things a little easier to choke down.
Thanks.
I’m with everyone else who was surprised that there was so much offense taken. Life has a lot of suckage, and if you don’t laugh, you end up bitter & miserable….so laughing is imperative. So – just one more lurker expressing support for your sense of humor.
what your last post seems to lack is perspective in that you should understand that not everyone is able to digest cancer lightly; for lots of people it’s all the pain and the hurt and the worst parts of their lives. A negative response from a portion of the population is an inevitable and logical byproduct.
It seems an odd reaction to be so sensitive about a perception of insensitivity regarding your last post from a few people who don’t even know you. I guess maybe it’s not odd at all and just a reflection of your own insecurity. That’s not a shot, we’re all insecure. Just saying things. luv the blog ur awesum.
Standing ovation for your aplomb and diplomacy…or maybe you actually have LAAAASERS (think Dr. Evil) for the trolls???
Hola Fish,
I just wanted to write and say what basically it looks like everyone else is saying, “Forget them!”
When my best friend was diagnosed w/ cervical cancer. She said she loved how I was normal around her, the fact that I didn’t tip toe and treat her like a sick person, How I still talked **** to her or made jokes at stupid stuff she did, I stayed the same I stayed her best friend I didn’t become a sick persons Best Friend.
and that convo you over heard and made you laugh reminded me very much of the ones we had.
I would have snorted out loud b/c of how hard I would have laughed if I would have heard that too! does that make me an evil person?
No, it makes me someone who can see a beautiful friendship!
Heather, I love your attitude. I really do admire people who can make jokes about painful and scary things. I never used to be one of those people, but I’m slowly forcing myself to become one. It’s hard work, but I think you’re absolutely right – if you can’t laugh about the tough things in life, they’re only going to bring you down, and where will you be then?
I think you’re an extremely admirable person, and I think a lot of people – myself included, without a doubt – could really learn a lot from you.
I’m pretty sure you’ve had to defend yourself twice in the last couple of months and I think it’s absolutely ridiculous! You’re human. Flaws and great qualities alike. I’m sure you felt compelled to both defend yourself and ignore the madness… I would’ve ignored them… I mean, really? Who are these people to you? Who am I to you? You know you’re fab, your family and friends know you’re fab, those who know and love you, know you’re fab… that’s all that matters at the end of the day.
I find that it is the people who have never actually experienced darkness that react to it the most inappropriately – and the ONLY inappropriate reaction is one that is stiff and formal and values the pain more than the person.
—
The night before my step-father died of cancer, I had come down with a terrible cold. As I was leaving for the evening, I went over to his hospital bed to give him a kiss, but then hesitated because I didn’t want to infect him. He saw me hesitate and arched his eyebrow at me before he burst out laughing, saying “Sweetie, I don’t think germs are the thing to worry about at this point, so come here and give me a hug and kiss!”
Later, the following morning and just hours from death, he was playing pranks on his nurses by lying still and sticking his tongue out of the corner of his mouth (playing “dead”) whenever they would come in to check on him. And he would laugh and laugh when they would rush to his bed, opening his eyes and mouthing “gotcha” with a grin to their shocked faces.
—
Watching someone suffer is never pleasant, but a smile or laugh amid the suffering is the GIFT that makes it a tiny bit more bearable for all parties.
Keep laughing, Fish. And keep telling us about all the things that make you laugh, and those of us who get it will laugh right along with you.
Viva La Heather! I am also a fellow sarcastic type, as are my group of close girlfriends, and you know what that is how we get through things.
When things are heavy or tough you don’t have to worry about worry, it will come whether or not you want it to, but laughter, that needs to be added like sugar to a cookie mix, or else you just can’t get through them.
I appreciate your sense of humor. Sometimes it makes it easier to get through a crazy day. Thanks.
Jill
It seemed silly to leave yet another (while heartfelt) supportive note, so I hadn’t planned on commenting. But then I read through all the other comments, and felt compelled to thank each of you who wrote in with all your wonderful stories of how humor and sadness have intermingled in your lives. It is just this universal sharing of the human experience that makes this anonymous community on the web so worthwhile. I’m smiling through tears with all of you.
I just wanted to say that I didn’t take offense to your post either. My Dad and my aunt are both cancer survivors, so I do know the disease. I think you’re right, Heather, in saying that those of us who are long-time readers of your blog understand that you meant no offense by it. I thought the post was cute, and it made me smile (as your posts regularly do). Keep up the good work!
I had a double masectomy last year, and I thought your last post was hilarious. People still get uncomfortable when I joke about what I went through, but honestly, sometimes all you can do is laugh…
Long-time lurker, rare commentor. I love your blog and I loved your last post. I feel like if you can’t laugh at the bad stuff, then the bad stuff wins.
Thank you for sharing your life. It’s a shame that people felt the need to reprimand you. I really enjoy your insight into things.
I also love your travel blog as well.
I wasn’t going to share my own story, but am frankly appalled by and angry with the people who were upset by yesterday’s post and need to let them know it.
I lost my dad to cancer a little over two years ago and reading your original post yesterday brought a smile to my face. It reminded me of how close my family grew during the last two years of his battle and how important it was to intermingle laughter with the tears.
I HATE cancer, and can only hope that laughing at it – ‘appropriate’ or not – can continue to take away its power – just as effectively as a yellow bracelet.
This reminds me of the time i was in the hospital for surgery when i was around 12. My surgeon walked in post-op to find my mother and I laughing about I don’t know what: the catheter, all the ivs, the cornucopia of meds I had to take, who knows. Anyway, the surgeon was aghast that we were laughing, and couldn’t seem to understand that we were not laughing b/c we were actually happy. But you know what they say about surgeons: not known for bedside manner and people skills. Apparently, the same goes for many blog commenters.
I’m right there with you…cancer has touched my life in so many ways that I’ve lost count…the one thing that I’ve found to help me deal with it is…keeping things simple…laughing…joking…messing around…talking about it in a rude manner…whatever it takes to make it thru another day…right now my Aunt has a type of blood cancer & is waiting on her bone marrow transplant…we joke about it so much until we have tears falling.
I completely know where you’re coming from, and serious kudos to still being yourself when it comes to such touchy posts. My mother has always reprimanded me for my dry sense of humor and sarcasm, but honestly, sometimes you do just have to look beyond the negative and appreciate the little things, like a good joke and a damn good brownie
My favorite quote: “Laughter is the jam on the toast of life. Adds flavor, keeps it from being too dry, and makes it easier to swallow.” – Anonymous.
With that said, I tend to think those people that haven’t directly dealt with certain things, take them differently. I, too, have dealt with cancer, mental instability, and various other deadly nasty things. My family and I joke about all of it. You have to to survive. And you are correct, it makes it less scary and studies have shown, a healthy attitude helps heal. So go on with your bad self
(how 90′s?) (and yeah, I said swallow…)
First- I laughed at your last post, a lot.
Second– My mom died ten years ago from cancer. Some of the things I remember inappropriately laughing about.
Mom got cut while getting a manicure. “Geez, don’t they know they can kill me with each nick. Woman dies from cuticle nicks.” She was anticoagulant.
I wrote a note and misspelled ‘morning’ with ‘mourning’ and my mom wrote back “not yet!”
One time she said quite emphatically, “over my dead body!” and then she countered with, “Wait, no, not even then!”
These may not seem funny to other people, but they cracked us up constantly.
At the risk of throwing gasoline on the embers of this discussion, you would be the first (OK, maybe third – after my mom, my sister and my bff at work) I would call if I found out I had cancer (I would add “or mental illness,” but that ship may have sailed already….). And if I had your phone number.
BTW, I would completely expect information on a brownie supply source, too, so keep it with you at all times, ‘K?
Because while laughter is the best medicine, everything is better with chocolate!
Seriously, though: Happy Almost-Valentine’s Day, Fish!! Keep us posted on the job search.
As you should, regardless of what anyone is saying because we will always OFFEND SOMEONE. ALWAYS. So, you cant try to weigh who that will be, because there will always be SOMEONE. I love the way you write, don’t change.
serious!
Personally, I am offended that you would even think that you have the right to say whatever you want, however you want, on.your.own.blog. The nerve of some people. Don’t you know we’re in commie Russia, not the U.S.A.?
Being a crazy person descended from crazy parents, if I can’t crack jokes about the crazy, well, then, I’ll either just start thinking I a Napoleon, or murder someone. And the world doesn’t need another Napoleon. So go on with your wisecracking self, Ms. H. An officially diagnosed crazy person gives you permission.
My name is Caoimhe and I laugh at brain tumors and strokes.
And 2 years ago when my Mom was diagnosed with cancer, I laughed at that too. (In between fits of crying and praying to any God that would listen not to take her away, of course.)
What great people we have all known who have dealt with the awful cancer.
Fish, thank you for two great posts. Three, actually, because I read the one about Maria too.
One of my greatest friends is dying of cancer right now and we get through it with laughter.
Cancer steals so much, the worst thing we can do is let it steal our laughter too.
Thank you.
Laughter is the best MEDICINE. Laughter HEALS
Happy Valentines Day everybody
Life is only bearable when you can laugh at tragedies. Find humor in everything. I am also sarcastic. I get you, people get you, and we rock!
I have been reading your blog for several months..You were the first “official” blog that I follow..I did not even bash an eyeball at your post. I got it. Iknow I am in a totally different life situation. I live out west, and am a single mom, but I your posts resonate with me! Especially with the dating dilemmas. Keep up the good work..
On my tombstone, they will put “she made us laugh” that is how I help everyone, myself included deal. Without laughter what is left? A lot of tears. I thank all those who can laugh along with the the tears beside me.
Remember when I had the flu a few years back and you refused to have sex with me? I thought that was pretty heartless. But I forgive you.
And when I really had cancer in 2002, all I wanted was a good laugh. Chemo made my mouth too sore for brownies, though.
“Hello, my name is Heather and I say insensitive ****. All the time.” Loved it! Good for you!
Hi Heather, I love your blog! For the record I didn’t take offense to your joke the other day…laughter is the best medicine! It keeps us sane or is it insane? One of the two
Heather – I loved the brownies blog! I was laughing out loud at work and got stares from the people around. Love the sarcasm, love the jokes…keep them coming!
Like they said, “It’s your blog.” I love your humor. But, I know dry wit runs in your family. My mom died 25 years ago from cancer and I was too young to find any humor to help us cope. I would hope for friends like you to be around if I ever have cancer or a stroke (like my Dad). I’m damned genetically on both sides of the family… so it’s really important to LIVE IN THE NOW. My husband has great humor and finds wonderfully funny cards to give me. Happy Valentine’s Day to one of my favorite bloggers.
brava, fish. brava.
I remember once, when I was scared that I was seriously sick, I did two things. A ate a pizza and made some brownies. In fact, today I had to get some blood drawn and you know what i’m doing now? MAKING COOKIES.
)
happy valentines day fish! and i LOVEEE your sarcasm! dont ever change
Very bold, noble, and generous of you to share. You, Heather, are a gem. I’m caring for a dear friend with ovarian cancer. I’m actually writing / responding to this from the NYU Cancer Center where the treatment for her is grueling. She calls the inserted ‘port’ in her stomach the cyborg. The term the nurses use is ‘IP’. My joke is the Internet Protocol (I’m a bit of a computer geek). So the information superhighway travels through her when she has treatment. Craig Furgeson calls is ‘The rise of the Meds’. I don’t know the survival rate and I don’t think I want to know. I just met her last Labor Day and we’ve become close. I occassionally get selfish and feel like a tool (sex, not knowing the future outcome nor the ability to have children, not being able to see live music, etc.). But I spend all the free time I can with her. She is a joy and a marvelous, generous person. The hair loss bothers her more than me. I just think it’s a damn shame someone that beautiful in mind, heart, body and soul has to be put through this and I share with your readers their grief and frustration. The various coping skills (humor a major one) everyone discusses is the key and goes a long way.
Um, ok, can I just say that your last entry made me laugh? Like really, really hard? As in, I really wished I had been sitting with you because a scene probably would have been made. No, cancer isn’t funny, but things in certain contexts can ALWAYS be funny.
Not everyone has the same sense of humor, and certainly not everyone has a sick sense of humor, but for my 2 cents: I’ve had cancer, and your post made me laugh.
OH. EM. GEE, Intarwebs. Get the hell over yourselves. Know what? My dad died of cancer when I was 15. Very worst thing that has ever happened to me. Guess what else: I LOVE A GOOD CANCER JOKE. Joking about cancer doesn’t make it stronger. It takes away its power, at least the power beyond what it can physically do to you. Cancer, whether you like it or not, can be funny. Get over it.
“Life is a tragdey for those who feel and a comedy for those who think.” Jean de la Bruyer
Hi Heather. Love your blog. My mother finished radiation and chemo for cancer the day you posted the brownie/cancer blog. And you know what? I thought to myself, “Man, if my mom wasn’t too exhausted to sit in front of a computer to read this, I would totally send her the link.” And I will, at some point. You are an inspiration and a terrific writer. Your humor is not lost on the people who “get it.” So thank you so much. I will always come back for more.
I completely agree with you there. If you can’t laugh at the bad stuff, especially if you have experienced it yourself – life isn’t worth living. Is it any wonder we have a nation dependent on anti-depressants?
You go girl!
Laughter is the shortest distance between two people.
My mother spent over 16 years battling various types of cancer (both breasts, ovarian, bone and finally brain cancer). Had we not been able to laugh at the all the frustrating situations, we would not have been as close during that time. The thing I am most proud about in my life is the amazing relationship I was able to share with my mom. And, we laughed at absolutely everything, even when people told us we shouldn’t. What do they know anyway?
“Hello, my name is Heather and I say insensitive ****. All the time. Some of you will think it’s funny, some of you will not. That’s a risk I’m perfectly comfortable taking.”
And that’s exactly why I love to read you. Thank you for being you. Always.
My first big pain was losing my grandfather kind of suddenly when I was 14. Just a normal loss we all go through but we were very close. It sucked giant donkey nuggets.
I’ve always remembered my uncle, his youngest child, saying at the time, “If we don’t laugh, we’ll die.”
And one of my favoritest ever quotes that’s hung from fridge to fridge over last 8 years:
“You’re only given a little spark of madness. You mustn’t lose it.” (Robin Williams/ Reader’s Digest Quotable Quotes)
My dad was cracking jokes in his last few hours, it was his way to say the cancer might be killing him, but it had not won, it could not beat him, the person inside the body.
If ever I find myself in that place, let me be surrounded by irreverent friends, who make me smile, rather than dark goths, who yearn for the night.
When my father suffered a paralytic stroke I said a lot of inappropriate things at the hospital. I arrived at the emergency ward after a hysterical telephone call from my mother and found my father laid out in the emergency room, his eyes wild with fear. The invincible hero of my youth looked old, frail and vulnerable. He feared he was dying. I took his hand and said, ‘papa, I’m here.’ He tried to speak but cried instead. He couldn’t swallow. I wiped the tears from his eyes and the drool from his cheek. We stood in silence and I held his hand.
He told me he had to pee. I went to the nurse explaining my father’s need. I returned to his side. A moment later the nurse came in with a bed pan, handed it to me and left. I looked at the bed pan and then at nurses’ station visible through the open curtain and then at my father. I said, “Dude, I love you and all but I’m not touching your dick.”
My father started laughing, convulsing so badly the nurses came running. I handed the bed pan to one of them and said, “He has to pee. I can’t. It’s a guy thing. I can’t do it.”
Humour got us through some troublesome times in the next six months of therapy and recovery. If you can’t mock the ones you love then maybe you don’t love them enough.