Laugh long and prosper.

I have a theory on healing.

Healing is multidimensional. It's a process that involves varying degrees of physical, spiritual, and emotional repair work. But it is my belief that true healing is also in the manner in which it is approached. Now, I am realistic and know that all wounds will not heal. We don't choose to be ill, but we can choose how we make the journey.

For me, healing begins with humor. Does it mean I have to feel good? I don't think so. How I feel physically doesn't really matter. What matters is how I choose to interact with the healing process.

I choose to laugh.

Humor pulls me out of whatever dark place I am in. When I look around, I mean really look - I find that most things have a funny side to them. Sometimes it isn't proper to laugh out loud, so I don't. I try to be respectful of others feelings, but occasionally it slips out anyway. I've always been this way to a certain extent, but one thing my cancer experience has taught me is that it's okay to laugh about being sick. In fact, I believe it's essential to laugh.

When we first learned of my diagnosis, my husband and I agreed that one of his primary responsibilities in this adventure was to make me laugh when I didn't feel like it. He has performed magnificently in this task, and still does.

On the morning of my surgery to remove my cancerous thyroid, I was terrified. My wonderful husband kept trying to get me to smile all the way up until they gave me the happy drugs. When the moment finally came for that last kiss before I was wheeled into surgery, I told my husband he had my permission to marry Laura San Giacomo if I didn't make it back. The nurses might not have laughed, but I thought it was funny. Yeah, it was really cheesy, but it made sense to me at the time. Happy drugs can do that.

I love funny stuff. Some of my favorite movies are really goofy movies like Galaxy Quest, Attack of the Killer Tomatoes, and Bubba Ho-Tep. I call them "don't-make-me-think" movies. I also really like cheesy stuff. The cheesier the better. I've watched movies like Love Actually and Unsinkable Molly Brown so many times I've worn out the DVD. If you combine all these movies into a TV Series you get the wonderful and campy Star Trek.

I have always been a fan of Star Trek, but I'm definitely not a "Trekkie." I have a friend that writes the star date on messages he sends out, so I imagine he might fit the label. But really, how can anyone not love the relationship between the main characters? Kirk, McCoy, and Spock represent all of us. (It's okay, you can admit it. I know you have found yourself identifying with one of them in the shows. We all have. No one will know but us.)

This is a public service announcement: Don't read this next part if you have a sensitive stomach. You will be advised when you can safely rejoin the blog.

While I was in the hospital right after my surgery I started feeling really sick in the middle of the night and knew that I was not going to (ahem) retain my dinner. I called the nurse. That's when it happened. I giggled. Through my nauseous, drug-induced post-op fog I realized that my dinner had been strawberry Jello and a red Popsicle. I had ordered orange, but that isn't what they brought me, and I knew when it resurfaced it wasn't going to look good to the nurse.

There ended up not being enough time for me to tell the nurse about my dinner. Even though the nurse responded fast, it was still too late.

Oops.

The nurse showed up and saw the awful red mess on the white blanket. Then there were two. The second nurse came into the room and the two of them kicked into efficient, nursely activity. And then there were three. Each nurse seemed more important that the last.

I giggled. I don't think they found it amusing, but I did. I kept trying to tell them about the Popsicle but they were seriously focused. I kept barfing and telling them the red was just jello, and they kept being helpful - and oh so concerned. After what seemed like an eternity, I remember hearing one of them saying "Oh, good. It's getting clear now."

I drifted back to sleep with a smile on my face.

Those nurses were wonderful. They weren't going to let me be alone until they knew I was okay. They were flat out amazing. But, now that I look back on it, I probably should have at least attempted to restrain myself. I just know that when the nurses left the room they discussed whether or not I was getting too much pain medication.

Okay, you squeamish types can start reading again now.

Looking back on the whole adventure I have to wonder... how would this scene have played out on Star Trek? Probably something like this:

Spock: "Fascinating."

Kirk: "Do something Bones!"

McCoy: "I'm losing her, Jim!"

Spock: "It's proving to be an inconvenience, but it is manageable."

McCoy: "Jim, she was decontaminated, she's been medically checked, we've run every test we know for everything that we know... we're doing everything that's possible."

Kirk: "Well that's not good enough, Bones. I want the impossible checked out, too."

McCoy: "In this galaxy, there's a mathematical probability of three million earth-type planets. And in all the universe, three million million galaxies like this. And, in all of that... and perhaps more, only one of each of us. We won't let them destroy the one named Georganne."

Kirk: (softly) "I'll never lose you. Never"

McCoy: "She's coming around, Jim! On pure speculation, just an educated guess, I'd say that woman is alive. By golly, Jim... I'm beginning to think I can cure a rainy day!"

Spock: "I'll never understand the medical mind."

Kirk: "Well, gentlemen, we all have to take a chance, especially if one is all you have. Resume your stations."

That's the way it will play in reruns from here on out. It's much better than the original.