Moments when I found having cancer really funny

Sometimes finding laughs in trauma, fear and stress can be the best medicine. (Along with chemo, obvs.)

Me scrabbling for lols in 2024

An audio version of this post (narrated by me) is available here:

I was diagnosed with Stage 3 colon cancer in March of last year, a few weeks after giving birth to my first child, Billy. I had to have an emergency reversible stoma fitted so my large intestine didn’t explode, three rounds of chemotherapy, then an operation to reverse the stoma and remove 30cm of my bowel. It was a clusterfuck the likes of which you’d see in Take A Break magazine, complete with a photo of me in a hospital bed, holding my newborn baby in one hand and, in the other, a book called Bucket List Regrets: Bet You Wish You’d Done More Stuff.

Yet, my situation was often hilarious.

Being in the Netherlands and navigating everything in another language meant cultural nuances in tone and levity were often misconstrued. Here’s the gist of an exchange I had with my doctor pre-diagnosis:

Doctor: It could be salmonella or tuberculosis. Have you been eating raw chicken or hanging out with any homeless people recently?
Me: Only every Saturday!
Doctor: Ah, that’s probably it then.
Me: No, no, I was joking. I don’t do that.
Doctor: Oh. What a strange joke to make.
Me: I know. I’m sorry. I can’t help myself.
Doctor: In which case, it’s probably cancer.
Me: Wait – what? Because I made a bad joke?
Doctor: No, because that’s the only thing left on the list.
Me: Well, that’s not ideal.

Another time, the doc asked if I smoked or did drugs and I screamed, “Not enough! By God, I wish I’d done more!” and she marked down “every week" on her form. I tried to correct her, then thought, ‘Sod it, maybe I’ll get better pain meds if they think I’ve built up a tolerance.’

Continuing the theme, after they gave me ketamine during my first operation, I woke up in the communal recovery room feeling absolutely brilliant. When the nurse said she had to see other patients, I roared, “FUCK ‘EM! FUCK EVERYONE ELSE! STAY HERE WITH ME! I’M SO MUCH MORE FUN!”

Once, I couldn’t do up my hospital gown and had it draped over one shoulder when a parade of doctors marched in. They stood there seriously discussing my case and it was only after they left that I realised my boob had been out the whole time.

Another day, a CT scan guy was wheeling my bed through the corridors and I told him I understood what colour corrector fluid was because I watched House. I said I could also solve crimes because I watched Criminal Minds. “What I’m saying is, I can do your job, yeah?” I repartee’d. “Well, that’s good to know,” he said. “Because I’m the janitor. I blagged my way in. I have no idea what I’m doing. Now lie down, shut up, and get in the tube.” Legend.

---

If you enjoy what you read & would like to buy me a coffee that would mean the world.

---

My mum died of cancer when I was 20 after a long and protracted illness that shaped my childhood in ways copious amounts of therapy is only just helping me to understand. Overall, the situation was decidedly not hilarious… BUT there are certain scenes I remember from those years which absolutely were. Like the time I tried on one of her wigs and it got stuck on my head. She was trying to yank it off while I panic-pulled her backwards, almost off her hospital bed. It was like that scene in Friends when Monica gets wedged inside the turkey. Then there was the time during chemo when she announced how she didn’t believe Cliff Richard was Jesus after all because “Jesus wouldn’t sing at Wimbledon” as Cliff once did – and several other patients nodded in agreement.

I remember these moments vividly because laughter helps. It helps everything. It reminds us that we’re alive. We can laugh in hyper-tense moments because of the absurdity of the situation, disbelief, or simply to break the tension. Laughter, fear and stress can be closely related – they’re high-arousal states, meaning our physical and emotional responses are on high-alert. It’s that old ‘laughing at a funeral’ scene. When emotions are constantly fraught and we’re exhausted, any surprising moment can shock us out of ourselves. Bring us back to earth. Make us laugh. It’s a form of connection, a coping mechanism, an emotional regulation, a relief.

Above all, laughing during bad shit is how we survive and feel human again; it’s how we remember that we’re more than what’s happening to us.

Just One More Thing

I’m in no way saying that I found what happened to me constantly funny. I’m not that far gone. What I’m saying is that looking for the funny in situations can be invaluable – as well as leaning into those moments when they happen organically. Like when they couldn’t find a vein for my blood-transfusion cannula and tried eight times. The nurse with the needle was cursing, another was chanting, “Just one more!” as though we were at the end of a DJ set, and I realised I was living through one of my worst nightmares… and I was okay. Coping. Because I had no choice. Because it was so awful that it was funny. We all high-fived when she finally nailed it and I took a photo of my stunned face so I’d remember the moment (below). Even now, a year later, I have dozens of little red spots on my hands and arms from all of my IVs – and I’m so fucking proud of them.

I truly believe that laughter is the best medicine for fear, so I’ll keep trying to find the absurdity in life. When I can. Most likely when least appropriate.

“Just one more!” (thing)

---

*Exceedingly modest reminder that I have written eight bestselling mental-health books which have been translated into dozens of languages. I’ve also written a book about the TV show Friends which would make a delightful gift for any Friends obsessives. All are available to buy online or at your local bookshop.