Humor Injections: A Humor and Healthcare Blog

Archive for Death/dying

Sometimes We Forget the Importance of Humor

1 Sep, 2010 No Comment

I had polio when I was 4 1/2 months old…back in 1952. Obviously before the vaccine. As much as I’d love to make this all about me, it isn’t! It’s about a friend of mine, Roger Anderson. Roger and I met in 1980 when I started playing wheelchair basketball with the local team, the Eugene Lowriders (most of the other teams called us “Lowlifers”, but that’s another story). Anyway, Roger and I, along with all the other teammates, became good friends. But as the years have gone by, we’ve lost many of them, including Roger. About 10 years ago Roger developed a brain tumor and after several months of fighting it, he died. It was a sad day for all of us, but like you wrote about in Humor Me, we were able to find some joy at Roger’s celebration of life.

During the service, those who wanted to would get up in front of the congregation at his church and speak about Roger. And all the stories were pretty much the same…Roger was a nice guy, whom everyone liked, and he helped the kids with their chairs, and if you needed anything Roger was always there…blah, blah, blah. Now, I don’t mean to by cynical, but the Roger I knew would have barfed if he’d been there! (Actually, there was something sticky on the drivers seat when I got back to the car, but I never was able to prove anything!) The Roger I knew was funny; from his hair, which was always in place, right down to the aftershave he never was without, including before he hit the court on game day! But the story that really shows Roger was one I heard about two weeks before his death.

When Roger was a child (4 or 5) and living in North Dakota, he and his brothers were playing with a bucket and gas trying to blow up stuff. A practice that is common among most rural males…my apologies if you’re a rural male! Anyway, there was an accident and Roger was burned over 80% of his body. As the years went on, he lost both his legs and had to have several surgeries. Now, fast forward to two weeks before his death. One of our friends, Loran Cushing, went to see Roger in the hospital and during this conversation, Roger mentioned that when he dies he hoped they cremated him so he can finish the job he started all those years ago! Ahhhhhh! A Rogerism if I ever heard one!

So in the midst of this tribute (at the funeral) to Roger’s “helpfulness” to friends and family, I got up and related this story to the 100+ people there. When I hit the punch line, all I heard was silence. I stood there a few seconds, although it seemed like a few hours, then the laughter started to build. It was as if people wanted to laugh but were afraid to, but it just got too funny for them to ignore. It still brings tears to my eyes to relate it all these years later.

After the service his sister, Joyce, sought me out and gave me a huge hug and thanked me for telling the story. “No one seemed to understand Roger,” she said, “until you told that story. Now everyone is talking about Roger’s sense of humor and how he always made us laugh! Thank you!”

After reading your chapter in this book, it made me realize that I hadn’t thought of Roger and the great times we had over the years for a long time. It also made me realize that I haven’t brought enough humor into my life recently as I’ve been feeling a bit sorry for myself since I’ve started to feel the effect of post-polio syndrome. The other article that has inspired me is the one by Michael Aronin, the guy with CP. I’ve actually seen him once a long time ago and envied him for his humor. I’ve always used humor to combat my situation, but never had the courage to do anything about it. With yours and Michael’s help, I’m moving in that direction.

Thanks Jim. – Ron

Let Us Find Balance Through Our Humor

1 Jun, 2010 No Comment

My son spent Memorial Day remembering his Anterior Cruciate Ligament (ACL) that died in the line of duty a few weeks earlier. He tore his ACL during a lacrosse game and had surgery four days ago to repair it. Luckily, the surgery went well and he’s doing just fine.

I wrote the opening line to this blog in my head as I was pondering my Facebook update on Memorial Day. I thought it was both funny and timely. But then, I decided not to write it because I didn’t want to spend the rest of my holiday answering angry comments like “Are you a communist?” or “Why would you make fun of such a serious day of remembrance?”

Perhaps I overreacted. Maybe all my Facebook friends would see it as tongue-in-cheek and not an insult to the valor of fallen veterans. But then again, maybe not. As a conference organizer, I was once criticized for using a rocked-out guitar solo of the Star Spangled Banner to open the conference because it was “insulting to veterans.” The theme of the conference was Rock and Roll, so I thought it made perfect sense to blend our patriotism with the theme in an entertaining way. But others did not see it that way.

My father and my uncle served in the Pacific in World War II. My brother spent six years in the Navy doing tours on a nuclear submarine. During graduate school, I worked at Ft. Belvoir Army Medical Center counseling retired military personnel and families. I deeply respect the military. So, does that mean there is no place for humor when it comes to something as serious as Memorial Day? It makes me wonder.

When I worked in hospice care, respect was woven into the fabric of everything we did. The dignity of the patient and family was critical to the success of our care. And yet, we laughed at the absurdities of life and the incongruity of death. Let’s be honest. It was funny when a priest thought that a patient was moaning in pain when she was actually on the bedpan. It was funny when a patient told me she had been “dying to see” our inpatient facility. And it was hilarious when a patient referred to Sister Catherine, a nurse, as “Attila the Nun.” Both the staff and the patients could appreciate the humor in these situations.

But there were those who could not laugh. The magnitude of their circumstances was so overwhelming, the best they could do was be serious – all the time.

I can respect the fact that some people are serious by nature and that some people take the world very seriously. But I suggest that if we can view our circumstances with a bit more objectivity and not have so much of our personal identity wrapped up in what we do, we would have the ability to see the world in all it’s many colors rather than in black and white. Every situation has the potential for joy and tragedy. It’s a balance. It’s not all or nothing.

Just like Memorial Day, healthcare is full of seriousness. Let us remember to always respect those with whom we work but let’s also not get so caught up in the seriousness of what we do that we fail to grasp the joy and humor that is part of life…and death.

Ron

A Smile Among the Frowns

9 Mar, 2010 No Comment

When I speak to healthcare audiences, I emphasize our tendency to focus on the negative and even our inadvertent desire to out negative one another. For instance, if someone says, “I’ve had this cold for a week,” we’re likely to respond, “I had a cold for seven years once.” We seem to thrive on pointing out the negative.

The weather is too cold except when it’s too hot. The restaurant food is not as good as the last time we were here. Our joints ache, our eyes are getting bad, and our hearing is worse but luckily, there’s nothing worth listening to anyway. Gas is too high, home prices are too low, and I can remember when a cup of coffee was a fifty cents.

There’s so much negativity out there, when I run into someone positive, I think, “Boy is he out of touch with reality.”

While I must admit that I too can be the King of the Whiners, it’s not completely our fault. We’re given a smorgasbord of negativity every single day in the newspapers, magazines, and television shows that we absorb.

I subscribe to USA today because it’s the McDonald’s of news and I can get a nice snapshot of the news and still have daylight left. Today, I glanced at the third page of the news section and here were a few of the headlines:

Colorado rock slide damages bridge, road
Inmate ODs on pills before execution
Conservative Calif. senator says he’s gay
Six hospitalized after bad injetions
Oregon couple get 16 months in son’s death
Train collides with truck

Is it any wonder we’re negative? All of these articles have a definite negative feel to them. Even though there might be positive stories, it’s the negative slant that tends to grab us and it’s the negative slant that sells newspapers.

As a side note, the inmate who OD’d on pills is now in the prison hospital. The medical staff said he was not yet ready to “be released” for execution. So, I guess if you take too many pills, you’re not in good enough shape to be given a lethal injection. Really?

Buried on the news page today amidst all the tragedy and destruction is a two sentence article that read, “Mary Josephine Ray, who was certified as the oldest person living in the United States, died at the age of 114 years, 294 days.”

OK, so it’s not necessarily a “positive” article but it has the potential of being one of the most inspirational articles in the entire newspaper. Yet, it only captured 2 sentences.

I don’t know Mary Josephine Ray, so I went looking for information on the internet. Here’s the photo I found of her 111th birthday party:

Mary Josephine Ray

That picture says it all. I can guarantee that to make it to 114, you can’t focus on the negative. In fact, one obituary said that Mary “just enjoyed life.” Can you see it in her eyes?

It’s a shame when a woman who clearly figured out how to live is only worth two sentences in a newspaper while a state senator’s gay-ness gets a full paragraph and the rising price of gas gets half of the front page.

I want to live in a world where Mary Josephine Ray is plastered all over the front page of the newspaper and we have to look long and hard to find out that our home price fell another half a percent. If the world was like that, we’d all live to be 114.

Ron

Remembering Roz

5 Jan, 2010 No Comment

My friend and colleague Roz Trieber died on New Year’s Eve after a brave battle with cancer. She was featured in my June 2009 newsletter: The Wizard of Roz

At her funeral, the rabbi said that Roz chose to “live into” this final journey of life and death. I think that’s a beautiful admonition to all of us. We should choose to “live into” every moment of our life whether that moment is full of joy or filled with challenge.

Roz hoped that her message of humor and hope, especially in the midst of cancer, would be spread around the world.

Here are links to her website Cancer Rocks and to her book Cancer and The Healing Power of Play. If you feel so moved, please spread the word about Roz’s work.

She was a gift to us all.

Ron

Death by Chocolate

15 Dec, 2009 No Comment

Last week, I had the privilege of working with VITAS Innovative Hospice Care in Houston. They brought me and my presentation “Celebrating the HA-lidays Every Day” in as a festive gift to their staff and then extended an invitation to my presentations to some of the local healthcare organizations. It was a great day.

One of the sponsors for this event was Dignity Memorial. I was very appreciative not only that they sponsored my presentations but that they gave away, as one of their promotional gifts, gold-covered chocolate coffins. Talk about death by chocolate!

Now that’s funny.

Ron

John Jay Daly Used First Class Humor

3 Sep, 2009 No Comment

On Tuesday, September 1, I attended the funeral of friend and colleague, John Jay Daly. I knew John as a professional speaker who founded the DC chapter of the National Speakers Association. I was president of that chapter in 2002-2003 and was privileged to receive it’s highest honor, the John Jay Daly Founder’s Award in 2007.

As a humorist, I always appreciated John’s quick, albeit corny, humor. He never hesitated to shout a funny line from the back of the room – even during someone’s presentation. He was also a fanatic about language and would correct your misuse without hesitation. And he loved history, especially the history of Washington, DC, having lived his entire 80 years with 1 mile of his Chevy Chase, MD birthplace only a few blocks from the DC border.

John was Catholic so I found myself lost during many of the ritual responses, kneelings, and crossings at the funeral. However, as a Presbyterian, I was comforted by much of the same language found in the readings, prayers, and hymns. Even though we’re on different teams, we all play for the same coach. And regardless of the denomination, I am always comforted by being in a church to celebrate life, death, and our faith.

What struck me most about John’s service though was the overabundance of humor. Except for the structured Catholic rituals, almost every speaker, including the priest, told story after story of the funny side of John’s life. I thought I’d share a few to give you a taste of this extraordinary man.

John was a lover of words. So much so that he placed a dictionary in every room of his house and kept several in the trunk of his car in case someone needed one. And according to one family member, “Everyone needed one!”

John had eight children. He would always say, “They are all girls except for the four boys.”

Recently, while boarding a city bus with his granddaughter (as related by her), John asked the bus driver if he knew whose picture was on the two-dollar bill. The driver didn’t know. So, John gave him several hints. The driver still didn’t know. So, John turned to the other passengers on the bus. No one knew. He then turned to his granddaughter who said, “Thomas Jefferson.” John beamed with pride and then took his seat on the bus. Ironically, his granddaughter told this story not out of embarrassment but with a sense of pride as well.

This is who John Daly was. A wonderful man, a great husband, a loving father, and a committed grandfather. It was an honor to know him and to call him a friend and colleague.

One of John’s favorite “pieces” was a postal prayer written by Most Reverend Raymond J. Boland, Catholic Biship-Emeritus and delivered at a national postal conference. The prayer was used to close John’s funeral. I’ll include it here as a tribute to John.

May everything we do be first class. Provide special handling for those of us who are fragile…and keep us in one piece. We have been signed, sealed, stamped and delivered in your image and likeness…and we beg you to keep us in your care as we go about our appointed rounds. And, when our days draw to a close and we are marked ‘return to sender’ please greet us at Heaven’s door so that no one may ever say ‘undeliverable at this address.’

John was first class.

Ron

Veterinarians Do it Right

28 May, 2009 No Comment

I read an article in USA Today about veterinarians who perform in-home euthanasia for pets whose owners want them to die at home. You can read the full article here: Euthanasia Veterinarians Provided a Peacheful Death.

I think vets are sometimes more in tune with their patients’ needs than humans. For instance, in my vet’s waiting room, there is a sign that reads, “Sit, Stay.” That’s hilarious. There’s nothing funny in my doctor’s waiting room.

When our dog got hit by a car a few years ago, we took him to an emergency pet care center. They tried to save him but couldn’t. And so they didn’t charge us for the visit. They had two people working on him, they inserted IV’s, they administered medication, and still, they did not charge us.

Have you ever gotten a free ride at a human hospital?

When we informed our vet that our dog had died, we got a very nice sympathy card and a letter indicating that their office had sent a donation to a local veterinary school in my dog’s memory. It’s sad, but sometimes we never even hear from the doctor after a human family member dies.

Now, I don’t mean to criticize the many people in our healthcare system that do a great job. Instead, I’m just pointing out how focused vets are on the comfort of their patients and families.

Maybe I’ll suggest that my doctor replace the sign that reads, “Patients are responsible for payment at the time of their visit” with one that says, “If you can’t pay your bill, we’ll extend the prognosis of your illness until you can.”

Ron

Holiday Hospice Humor?

19 Dec, 2008 No Comment

I ran across this parody from a hospice presentation a few years ago. For those of you who did not work in hospice care, be warned that it’s a bit edgy – but fun.

(To the tune of The Twelve Days of Christmas.)

On the first day of hospice, my hospice gave to me,

An advanced di-i-i-rec-tive.

On the second day of hospice, my hospice gave to me,

Two hours of CNA help (which is more than necessary for a bath but too little for complicated personal care)and an advanced di-i-i-rec-tive.

On the third day of hospice, my hospice gave to me,

Three years of JCAHO accreditation,..two hours of CNA help,..

On the fourth day of hospice, my hospice gave to me,

Four Medicare benefit periods,..three years of JCAHO accreditation,..

On the fifth day of hospice, my hospice gave to me,

Five days of respite,..four Medicare benefit periods,..

On the sixth day of hospice, my hospice love gave to me,

Six months to live,..five days of respite,..

On the seventh day of hospice, my hospice gave to me,

Seven different phone numbers so I wouldn’t call 911,..six months to live,..

On the eighth day of hospice, my hospice gave to me,

Eight days spent recovering from the trip to the ER because I lost the seven numbers,..seven different phone numbers,..

On the ninth day of hospice, my hospice gave to me,

Nine turns an hour to prevent bedsores,..eight days spent recovering,..

On the tenth day of hospice, my hospice gave to me,

Ten milligrams of Dilaudid with a rum and Coke chaser for my pain,..nine turns an hour,..

On the eleventh day of hospice, my hospice gave to me,

Eleven scans and tests because my illness seems to have disappeared,..ten milligrams of Dilaudid,..

On the twelfth day of hospice, my hospice gave to me,

Discharge status: Alive but without permission.

Ron

Humor: In Sickness and in Health

24 Mar, 2008 No Comment

The reason for the gap between blogs is that for the past month, I have been supporting my father through an illness. Unfortunately, as a result of several setbacks, his 89 year-old body was unable to recover from the illness. On March 16, 2008 and with the support of hospice care, he died peacefully.While this has been a sad and exhausting experience for us, there were also numerous examples of humor that occured in the midst of his care.

For instance, he had gone several days without a shave. After my brother and I shaved him, I was leaning over him examining our work and my father said, “I’ve grown accustomed to your face.” It was hilarious.

Another time, he had been in and out of a state of confusion. When the nurse came in to see how he was doing, she asked, “What’s your name?”

He paused and then responded, “Periwinkle.”

While some may think he was confused, I’m convinced he was just having some fun with the nurse. She called him “Mr. Perwinkle” for the rest of the day. It was a delightful bit of banter.

A few days before he died, his friend Neel was visiting. The parish nurse asked my father if there was anyone he wanted to see or talk to. My father said, “Well, Neel owes me $10.”

In the midst of all the challenges that went with caring for my father and utlimately losing him, we have many fond memories of his humor.

Ron

It’s Not So Bad to Be a Loser

8 Jan, 2008 No Comment

Someone once said that humor is “tragedy plus time.” One of the things I learned working in hospice was that time is not always the determining factor. After a loss, many people expect to feel better “in time” but if they don’t do the work of grieving, they won’t feel better as quickly. And while time does seem to help, there is more to it than that.A hospice nurse sent me a great example of how humor can be found in the midst of tragedy. It was an obituary from Katherine Mahaffey in the Pantagraph newspaper in Texas. After a lengthy description of her family, it indicated that she was a member of the United Church of Christ and was the Director of Music for many years. Then, the obituary ended with this statement:

“She was known for being the traditional loser at her local bridge club.”

I’m not sure we’d like to be known as a “traditional loser” and yet that line alone tells me more about this woman than anything else in her obituary. It shows me that she had friends, she had a fun hobby and she was comfortable with herself – or else they would not have put the loser comment in the obituary.

When you think about it, by losing, she made everyone else a winner!

How will you be remembered? I hope that I’m remembered as a loser like Katherine.

Ron

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