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