A Comedian's Answer to "What's So Funny About Cancer?"

I'm a comedic motivational speaker and a two-time cancer survivor, and I make people laugh about my experiences with the disease until their faces hurt. Unusual job, true; but when I speak in cancer survival programs, my mission is to convince people that it's not only okay but a duty to laugh if you're touched by cancer.

Coincidentally, I was first diagnosed around the time Norman Cousins made headlines with his groundbreaking research into the healing power of laughter. He stunned and bewildered medical experts when he literally laughed a deadly disease into remission and was living proof of the quip, "He who laughs, lasts." I heard a recording of a radio interview he did, and talk about an inspired motivational speaker! He laughed as if his life depended on it-because it did! Numerous studies since have proven that laughter releases healing chemicals in the body, and negative emotions-depression, anger, etc.-activate harmful ones.

So when I was diagnosed, I figured I'd be the dumbest comedian/motivational speaker on earth if I didn't stay positive and get as many laughs as possible. Not only could I gather material for my cancer survival programs (I never doubted that I'd win the battle), I also wanted to be an inspiration to others. I joked through both of my ordeals because I thought it was the smart, practical, and definitely the most fun thing to do. I frankly can't think of a single situation where having a negative attitude and no sense of humor is the smart thing to do. There were so many arguments against being depressed and miserable that, as a dedicated humorist, I decided to spread some Tumor Humor instead, and the rewards have been incalculable.

One day when I was throwing up, a nurse asked how I was doing.

"Well, I've puked up about everything," I croaked, "but I think I found my class ring."

Her exuberant giggles were like a shot of morphine to me. Suddenly I was the caregiver, making her feel better, and my reward was feeling better for a few precious minutes.

Comedians get criticized for doing "below the belt" humor, but that's where The Beast attacked me. When my doctor told me I would have to lose a testicle, I told him I wanted a second opinion before I relinquished one of my personal favorite organs: "I've gotten attached over the years." He chuckled and said, "Keep that attitude-it's going to help." Of course, luncheon speakers and keynote speakers in corporate situations have to be very careful how we present sensitive material. So far I've managed to be a funny and inspirational speaker without crossing the "taste line."

The day before the operation, my doctor asked me if I wanted him to install a plastic prosthesis so I would look the same. Hmmm. That struck me as a set-up for a joke. The same to whom, I wondered? I thought about it, then said, "Of course, doc, I don't want this to affect my modeling career," and he snickered. He obviously wasn't used to treating comedians and his face nearly cracked every time I made him giggle.

The radiation saved my life, and I don't care that it sterilized me. I had already fathered the most beautiful daughter in the world, so, as I say onstage, "I got the crop in before I lost the farm!"

I figured I had had my cancer experience and was home free. So imagine my surprise when three years ago I had a routine eye exam and a malignant melanoma was found on the back of my eyeball. My surgeon knew my history and laughed when I said, "Gee, doc, I'm having no luck at all with these round organs."

He sewed a radioactive button on the back of my eyeball, and as a result I lost most of the vision in my right eye. I was quarantined from my family for a week; so what's a motivational speaker do when he's an invalid? I spent a lot of time coming up with more funny and inspirational material. When my doctor removed the button eight days later, he asked me how my week had been. "It was kind of fun being Radioactive Man," I said. "I could glare a Birdseye frozen dinner into a hot meal in 30 seconds." He tittered. "My X-ray vision only seemed to work on the mailman, which was disappointing." He chuckled. "But I found if I stared at the dog long enough, I could make her butt itch, a lot of fun." He guffawed and said the treatment obviously hadn't diminished my sense of humor.

"No," I said. "Not bad for a guy who's half blind and half nuts"-a line that kills at cancer survival programs, but I sometimes have to clear it first if I'm, say the luncheon speaker at a corporate event.

Anyway, my doctor laughed again, and it felt good to give something back to the man who had saved my life.

If your life is touched by cancer, laughter should be part of your regular therapy. Don't consider yourself funny? Hey, motivational speakers and humorists don't write all of their own humor, either, and we get inspiration from all kinds of sources. But you don't have the restraints as far as "stealing material" that professional humorists and motivational speakers do, so steal stuff from anywhere you want and share it with anybody who needs a laugh! Jot down TV monologue jokes that make you laugh, Reader's Digest anecdotes, jewels from joke books, email funnies, things your kids or others have said. Wherever you get it, share the joy.

Take it from a guy who makes his living as an inspirational speaker: Laughing-and making others laugh-will make you feel better; and everyone you touch will be grateful for your precious gift.