Waiting...waiting...waiting...

The status on my Facebook right now says, "If you can laugh at it, then you can live with it." In my opinion, this is one of Erma Bombeck's gems. (of course my cousin Kathy's immediate response was "that's the way I think about Pete" her husband.)

To me humor has always been a saving grace. I grew up in a family that uses humor not only to cope and heal, but to celebrate life as well. We laugh at anything and everything. Sometimes this is disconcerting to those who do not know us well. I think I mentioned in an earlier blog that my cousin Joey had his kidney removed due to cancer many years ago. Of course that word raises all kinds of anxiety but when I brought him a can of kidney beans when I went to see him in the hospital we laughed, the tension broke, and we were able to talk. Shortly after my diagnosis I was talking to Joey on the phone and he said that he had a gift for me. Comfy socks? Healing CDs? Aromatherapy hand lotion? Nooooo....two cans of evaporated milk.

This is the family I come from. And I wouldn't have it any other way. I like shouting over each others' voices to be heard when telling family stories and having at least 2 people tell different versions, and then laughing until your stomach hurts. Some stories are just plain funny, and others are of the "you had to be there variety". My cousin Margaret and I can laugh until we cry when we hear someone say, "Here today, gone tomorrow," because under totally inappropriate circumstances (as her aunt was being taken away in an ambulance) Margaret's mother nonchalantly commmented, "Well, here today, gone tomorrow."

But I have to say that my mother is the most naturally funny person I know. Anyone who has spent any time with her at all knows this to be true. It is not just that funny things happen to her (all the time), but she can tell a story with perfect timing and facial expressions that put her in league with Lucille Ball and Gracie Allen, and Carol Burnett. I'd like to share one of my favorite stories that took place quite awhile ago. I am sure that it will lose something in the translation by writing it down but....years ago my parents took the bus into New York with their friends Doris and Frank to see a Broadway show. My mother always has to go to the bathroom and knows where they are in each and every supermarket, mall, bookstore, and department store on the east coast, so she thought she would go to the bathroom before leaving Port of Authority. Her friend Doris came with her and looked somewhat uncomfortable. My mother asked her what was wrong and she said that she didn't have any change. This was in the day when public bathroom stalls would be locked with big silver change machines and if you did not have a dime you were not going to get in. My mother, however, knew that they were doing away with this practice and that most of the coin machines had been disabled. To reassure her friend she said, "Don't worry Doris, you don't need change anymore." And with that she demonstrated by opening one of the stall doors and then closing it, opening it and then closing it, saying, "see?" .....until she heard the small voice of a little old lady sitting on the toilet bowl saying,"Could you please stop doing that." My mother stopped in her tracks, opened the door looking directly at this poor old woman. After apologizing profusely, she and Doris had to run out of the bathroom and look for another one...

Why am I telling you these stories? I don't know. Because they make me laugh? Maybe. But I think that they are the stories of survivors. I am waiting ...waiting...waiting...for who knows what. But while I am waiting and worrying, and picking out the music for my funeral service (just kidding...that's been done already) I am also remembering, and sharing stories and laughing. They make the waiting go by much quicker and I think that this is the best part of life anyway. I really believe that humor, in any form, and a positive healing attitude and environment can do wonders.

One last story. (for now) When I was 10 years old my mother was first diagnosed with breast cancer and had her first mastectomy. She had radical surgery that was different from what we know today so it took longer to build up her arm muscle to lift her arm over her head, etc. I remember her standing next to a wall and using her fingers to creep up as high as she could go to strengthen her arm. One day, not too long after my mother came home from the hospital, my father put us all in the Rambler (a car for those of you too young to remember) and we headed off to Sears. My mother asked my father where we were going and he told her that we were going to Sears to buy a dryer so it wouldn't be so difficult for her to have to hang all the clothes on the line. My mother burst into tears and none of us knew what to make of it. Through sobs she said, "I must be dying, you would never spend that kind of money." So, my father promptly pulled the car over to the side of the road and was going to turn around and go home. My mother said, "You'll really go home?" He said, "Absolutely, I don't want to upset you or have you think you're dying or anything...I just wanted to make things a little easier for you." To which my mother replied, "Then let's go to Sears before all the good sales are over!"

Who knows what is ahead for me but you can be sure that I am not going to stop telling the stories and I will never turn down the offer of a large appliance....even if I am dying....

Thanks for helping me get through this afternoon's wait. The visit was very enjoyable. Talk to you soon.