LAUGHING IN THE FACE OF MALIGNANCY - THE POWER OF TUMOUR HUMOUR

WITH A SENSE OF HUMOUR, AT LEAST YOU KNOW YOU'RE STILL BREATHING, WILLIAM THOMAS WRITES

"Laugh, and the world laughs with you. Weep and you weep alone. For the sad, old earth must borrow its mirth but has trouble enough of its own." From Solitude by Ella Wheeler Wilcox.

You hear a cancer joke — "Our mom is now officially cancer free but we're not sure what to do with her ashes" — and you laugh ... until you get cancer. No, no, no. Trust me, the laughter comes with the cancer, or so it better be.

"I am currently working on eliminating all Cancers. The Virgos are next!"

Forget which disease you're dealing with at the moment, simply laughing proves you're at least winning on one front — perspective. Laughter speeds up breathing, ingests more oxygen and stimulates the heart, lungs and muscles. Laughter as a healer is more medicinal than funny. Long term, humour helps you through dark periods and sharing it connects you with others in the same tipsy boat.

"Folks, I'm thrilled to tell you I beat Stage 1 cancer. Just got the call from my oncologist. I'm now at Stage 2!"

Doctor: "I have bad news. You have been diagnosed with both cancer and Alzheimer's."

Patient: "Well, at least I don't have cancer."

"What's so good about Stage 4 cancer? There's no Stage 5."

Thanks to Dr. Madan Kataria of India, there are now more than 20,000 Laughter Yoga clubs in 120 countries around the world, all eliminating stress and promoting happiness. And ... laughter is contagious so that those around the patient can stop walking on eggshells and enjoy a moment of mirth.

"I wish everyone would just lay off Lance Armstrong. What an amazing accomplishment — winning seven consecutive Tours de France while recovering from testicular cancer. And I don't care if he was on steroids. Hell, when I was on drugs, I couldn't even find my bike!"

If Clowns Without Borders can teach traumatized children to smile again, you can certainly share a really bad disease-related joke with a friend. Like ...

"Oh sure, everybody says that smoking causes cancer. But it also cures salmon."

Laughter lowers your heart rate and your blood pressure, at least temporarily.

"My husband was just diagnosed with cancer. The doctor recommended radical dissection. So I went online to see if there was any alternative. Wow! Sergio, 42, a fitness trainer from Oakville looks really hot!"

Laughter boosts the body's immune system and helps fight off infections.

"I don't know why, after a man dies, they say he lost his battle with cancer. I mean, at the moment of death, he and the cancer cease to exist. Isn't that kind of a draw?"

Laughter produces "feel good hormones" in the brain, lessening anxiety and raising your tolerance for pain. The release of endorphins creates what they call a "natural high." As someone who smoked weed at university, I wouldn't know anything about that.

"I'm sick and tired of cancer jokes. I've heard seven cancer jokes today alone. If I hear tumour, it's going to benign." (Groaning isn't as good as laughter but you take what you can get.)

As is often the case, the funniest take on any subject is unscripted and unintentional. In a verbal dust-up in the New Zealand parliament, an angry Prime Minister Jacinda Ardern was caught whispering on a microphone that rival MP David Seymour was an "arrogant p---k." Insulted, Seymour demanded an apology, which he would later receive. However, in the meantime ... you gotta love it when a profane plan comes together ... they met, talked things over and decided to make a purse out of a sow's ear. They took the exclusive tape of the profane exchange, autographed it and then sold it to the highest bidder for a good cause. New Zealand's Prostate Cancer Foundation is today $60,000 (Canadian) richer for their good sportsmanship. (Can you imagine that happening in the United States between a Democrat and a Republican? Yeah, after the bullet wounds were declared to be superficial?!)

Seymour got the last laugh with the punchline:

"It's for the betterment of p--ks everywhere."

When you're diagnosed with any horrible disease, you're not done.

"All your phone messages about how not knowing exactly what's going on with me has really stressed you out — really helped put things in perspective."

When you lose perspective — the great times you've had as opposed to the limited time you have left — then you're done.

When you lose humour — unable to laugh at a leaky catheter or a pop-up ad for life insurance — then, yes, you're done.

"Thanks for the flowers. I hope they die before I do."

When there's humour there must be hope so you're never really alone with the disease until the room goes black.

As they say, laughter is the best medicine ... unless you have diarrhea.