Humor Makes It Better

I don’t know how you do it! That is without doubt the most common phrase I’ve heard over five decades of parenting my CHD daughter. It probably sounds familiar and if you’re also a parent of a child with CHD you’ve thought as I have: “What are my options? I just do it.”

Digging deeper, I realize a key element to navigating tough times was our humor. Norman Cousins got it right by deciding to laugh his way to recovery. Although not a scientifically proven antidote, he survived for decades beyond his “expiry date”—proof enough for me.

Physically, laughter slows the adrenaline rush released by fear and anxiety. It’s the relaxing deep breath that alters our perception. For Lorie and I, humor cemented the important moments, allowing the frightening ones to fade into hazy blurs.

Following transplant, it’s crucial for patient and advocate to attend medication class before discharge from hospital to ensure both parties completely understand this complicated procedure. From the beginning it was clear I wasn’t going to be much help to my daughter. Not being a “pill taker” myself, the lingo was beyond my grasp.

Post-surgery, Lorie was highly medicated for pain, limiting her attention span to falling asleep at any given moment. Being a congenital heart patient she was familiar with meds, but these were both new and numerous. Immediately upon joining the group, Lorie’s head dropped to her chest, seemingly sound asleep. I desperately attempted to take notes, but to me, the pharmacist was speaking a totally different language. I panicked.

The most amazing scene then unfolded. Every time the pharmacist asked a question, Lorie’s head shot up, always answering correctly. Then her head slumped down again. Amazingly, by the end of the session Lorie had her protocol down pat, even though she needed a wheelchair to return to her room, along with an orderly’s assistance to help her into it and take her back.

Out of the dozen around the table that day, she still came away with more clarity than most. Not only was I confused, but from the blank look on their faces, so were the other attendees. To this day, just the words “med class” has us—as well as the pharmacist—hooting with laughter.

We also loved the game we named “what will they call the food today?” Yesterday it was vegetarian chili, but chances are the same dish will be vegetarian stew today… and soup tomorrow. And then there were the hospital beds. In an attempt to make Lorie more comfortable, I’d habitually end up folding her in her bed. If I pushed the button down, her legs would go up! Thank goodness a nurse or orderly was close by to rescue us.

Oftentimes we encountered defective IV poles. One such time, Lorie’s pole decided to go in circles down a sloping hallway, while she frantically hung on (more on that from Lorie can be found in this post). I was laughing too hard to immediately assist, and admit to sometimes being a bad mom!

Well-meaning friends can mess up, too. One particularly painful day a very impulsive, athletic visitor decided to take Lorie for a nice ride. Enthusiastically he grabbed her wheelchair and sprinted down the sloping hallway toward the elevator. Lorie gasped; I cringed and wondered how I’d possibly explain why she ended up on the floor.

Laughter truly is our salvation. Lorie and I have written about our hospital humor, often referring to it as bizarre, because most outsiders wouldn’t see much hilarity in these situations. Veteran parents and patients who have racked up years of hospital time will understand how perceptions of the casual visitor can’t help but differ from our own.

Unquestionably, pain and fear is not lost on Lorie, but she admits much has been replaced by episodes of silliness. All we have to do is mention “food, IV pole, or medication seminar” and we burst into belly laughter.

Humor is the glue that keeps our relationship sane. Being a patient is tough, but so is being the parent. Parents feel it’s their responsibility to make everything better and too often we can’t. Heartfelt belly laughter is a wonderful release valve—hastening healing while creating positive memories.