The healing power of laughter
Reflections from my hospital bed – Part 2

Whilst in hospital one of the things that kept me sane was humour. It often comforted me at times when I felt at my lowest. There are a number of classic stories that I’ll treasure for a long time to come, here is just one. (I fear that some of this you may describe as “Having to be there” but I’ll record it anyway for prosperity.)

Setting the scene.
In my ward were four beds, two on each side. If you can imagine a square I was bottom right, the guy on the bottom left we’ll call (b), the guy top we’ll call (c) and far right we’ll call (d). We had a window to our right and a corridor to our left. Two beds were filled by men in their 70’s and one with a guy in his 60’s so as you can imagine I was some 30 years their junior.

My mate (d)
(d) was a guy I grew very fond of and was in his middle 70’s. He took a turn as he called it more commonly known as a stroke and was in recovery. Three things frustrated him. Firstly, the length of his recovery, secondly, the fact that he took the stroke in a bar shortly having ordered a pint which he paid for but never got to drink, and thirdly “Her sister”. I’ll go into the third point shortly. (d) is a relaxed guy with a sometimes all too cynical outlook on life. That said he’s not a bitter man, just a bit jaded. I loved the way he delivered everything in a dead pan manner similar to Jack Dee, I often thought that he didn’t realize how funny he was.

(d) married a girl who came with a sister and the two of them are inseparable. This sister is by all accounts as thick as they come and has some very strange habits. My attention was drawn to this by his first question to his wife one night. He asked “Do I have any taps left?”. He later told me that the sister often turns the tap off with such force and effort that they break. Anyway one night (b) took very poorly and we were asked to leave the ward as the nurses suspected a heart attack. In her panic (d)’s wife tripped and caught hold of his pajama bottoms. He was close to being naked when he shouts “What’s wrong can you not wait to Tuesday night to get a slice of me” (Tuesday was his release date) Well I laughed and once I started I couldn’t stop, it must have lasted for a good 10 minutes.

The following morning (d) reaches for a fresh pair of pajamas and realizes he hasn’t got any. He shared it with us and as he did so he realizes that he also had no wash bag. He was bamboozled as to where they went, and we were as baffled as him. Suddenly he slapped his forehead and said “Oh no”. When I asked him what was wrong he said that he had told the sister to bring his dirty washing home for him. He said with one of his dead pan looks “I bet you a pound to a penny that thick cow has been confused and lifted them” Well I wanted to respect his frustration but I couldn’t hold it back. Hysterical laughter over took me and again I couldn’t stop laughing. He didn’t exactly see what I was laughing at and so I remember having to turn away from him and laugh into my pillow.

Tuesday was to be his release date and boy was he busting a gut to get out. Monday night came and it was a night I’ll never forget. I vomited so hard I was throwing up bile for 45 minutes before they injected me with stuff to stop me being sick. My doctor told me a few days later that the injection was very costly and normally only reserved for those terminally ill and only then to give them some peace before they departed. Unfortunately during the same night (b) took ill again and the family were called as the nurses thought he wouldn’t see the morning. (d) also was ill that night and took another turn. Morning came and the form was very low. (d) was floored with the news and he looked a beaten man. (c) got news that he had a shadow in his lung and they suspected cancer. In retrospect I was relatively healthy compared to my three friends but I didn’t feel it. I thought I was the one at death’s door and given the choice at the time I may have picked it.

It broke my heart to see (d)’s hopes dashed of returning home and it hurt even more to watch him struggle to use his left side. I knew I had to do something and I knew he would enjoy a joke. I desperately searched for something to raise morale. All four of us where so low. Then it came to me and with all the strength I could muster I shouted across the ward "(d) it could be worse". "How’s that" he replied. "You could have married the wrong sister." Well, the four of us laughed sore. It was a moment I’ll never forget.

Point of learning...
So there you go folks you’ve just read my longest post ever and the moral of the story is this. Hold on to your God given sense of humour at all stages. It could turn out to be one of your closest friends and one of the things that carries you through!