How's your life?

Humor involving cancer is a funny thing - not necessarily in a ha-ha kind of way.

For example, when I was having my biopsies done on Jan. 6, I felt pretty confident that I did not have cancer. The doc, his nurse and I were having an easy-going conversation as they used a noisy little "gun" to punch out tiny samples of breast tissue. The topic turned to life in a small town, and I said, "Oh yeah - I know that word is out that I'm having this done. So by the time I get back, word will be on the street that I have BRAIN cancer."

Total, total silence. In that moment, it occurred to me that as far as they knew, I could HAVE brain cancer if the breast cancer they were testing for had spread. That actually amused me a little. Because, shoot! I didn't have cancer!!

A few weeks later, shortly after I got my pixie cut (to prepare the girls for bald me), we attended the Polar Bear Plunge. Folks jump into crazy cold water to raise money for cancer. The following Monday, I had this conversation with the wonderful man who is the principal at my daughter's school.

"Nice new haircut!" he said.
"Thanks! Is it sassy?" I asked.
"Yah, it's SASSY," he said, tossing some pretend hair and using his best Valley Girl drawl. "Did you give your hair to Locks of Love?"
"Locks of Love?" I couldn't believe it. Was this actually happening?
"Yes, Locks of Love," he said. "You know - for cancer?"
"Man: I've GOT cancer," I said.

He was horrified - and I felt only a slightly bad. Because going through that exchange put a smile on my face for a good two days.

This last Sunday, I got my latest dose of cancer-related amusement. (When I put it like that, doesn't it sound FUN?! How great it would be to simply opt out of this comedy routine. I'm so glad that God has a purpose in this. I long to feel "like myself" again.)

Our church meets in a hotel banquet room. That evening, our family had just watched the movie "Courageous," and was filing out to the car. I remembered something I wanted to say to another member of our church body, and I called out to my husband that I'd be right back.

In the meantime, he and the girls made it to the hotel lobby and spied a couple of Alaska State Troopers. They were in Seward for snowmachining with a bunch of other guys. One of the men, a wiry guy who is in the drug unit, graduated with my hubby from the Trooper academy in 1996.

"Hey man!" he called to JB. "How's your wife?"

This seemed a bit odd to my husband, since he hadn't seen this guy in years. But he just rolled with it - he'd had people far more unfamiliar than this recently ask him about my status.

"She's doing OK," he replied, but realized he'd misheard when he received a raised eyebrow. "I'm sorry - what did you say?"

"Your LIFE. I said 'How's your LIFE?'" The man laughed. "Like I'd ask about your wife out of the blue. As if she has CANCER or something!!"

A heartbeat fluttered by.

"Dude - she DOES have cancer," my sweet husband said, and he was smiling. Because he and I have been learning to see these kinds of moments as humor. Is that a little twisted?

As these words are spoken, I walked into the lobby - totally unaware of the exchange. I was wearing one of my new little doo-rags on my bald head. Twisted or not, how great was that timing? I couldn't have planned a better entry - it was like a Saturday Night Live skit for people battling cancer.