My name is Bill Barrett, I live in Franklin, Tennessee and I have a rare cancer known as Leiomyosarcoma. I belong to a small Cancer Support Group that has not been providing very uplifting support. Frankly the meetings were usually pretty depressing. I therefore thought about quitting the group but upon reflection decided to write and perform a cancer related humorous skit instead in hopes of changing the outlook that my co-members had. The humor is black and on occasion vulgar but the audience loved it and it completely changed the tone of subsequent meetings. With hopes that you will not be offended by the material what follows was my “routine” that I chose to call Cancer Comedy a.k.a. Tumor Humor

Yep, I have Cancer. I was first diagnosed five years ago. Does it mean I’m lucky to have survived cancer for five years? My Dad once told me I was so lucky that if I fell off a roof - I’d go up.

A friend recently commented that I had the luck of the Irish. Yeah, right. Irish luck. What a joke. Virtually enslaved by the English for a couple of Centuries, half the population starved to death in a potato famine, a civil war that lasted more than 80 years – that’s some kind of luck.

What the Irish do have is an abounding optimism. We never see a half empty glass. Ours is always half full – unfortunately most often it’s half filled with Jameson’s or Bushmills Irish Whiskey.

When I first heard that I had Cancer, I was very depressed. I looked so forlorn and downtrodden that a homeless guy came up to me and gave me a dollar.

It was my Urologist who told me I had Cancer. Urology Departments of hospitals are strange places. I know a woman who agrees with me. She says she wonders why her OB-GYN leaves the room when she gets undressed if they are going to look up there anyway?

In fairness, they do try to help you to keep your dignity. They give you what they euphemistically call modesty gowns. Hospital professionals refer to ICU as the Intensive Care Unit. Patients refer to “I see you” as the modesty gowns they ask you to put on.

I overheard a man ask a Urology Department nurse if she ever laughed at a patient’s complaint. The nurse indignantly replied "Of course not. I'm a professional. In over twenty years I've never laughed at a patient." "Okay then," said the patient, and he proceeded to drop his trousers, revealing the tiniest penis the nurse had ever seen. Length and width, it couldn't have been any bigger than a triple “A” battery. Unable to control herself, the nurse started giggling and before she was finished she fell to the floor laughing. Ten minutes later she was able to struggle to her feet and regain her composure. "I am so sorry," she said. "I don't know what came over me. On my honor as a nurse and a lady, I promise it won't happen again. Now, tell me, what seems to be the problem?" "It's swollen” replied the man. The nurse ran out of the room totally out of control.

I was told they would have to surgically remove a large tumor attached to my prostate and, in the process, could not avoid removing my prostate as well. This was serious stuff and I was really very worried. I knew that as a result of the operation I’d no longer be able to produce sperm. At my age I didn’t think that was such a big deal. I already had five kids and didn’t need any more – kids or sperm.

But, I did have one grave concern. I pleaded with the surgeon to try to spare the nerves that produce an erection. He promised to do his best. Well, the surgery was performed and when I woke up in the recovery room I saw the surgeon. I asked “how did it go?” The surgeon replied “I've got good news and bad news.” “Give me the good news first” I said. “O.K.” said the surgeon. “We were able to save the nerves.” “That's great news!” I said. “What's the bad news?” The surgeon replied “They're under your pillow.”

After that first surgery they thought I was cured. They were wrong. The Cancer metastasized. That means it had spread to other areas of my body and was growing. I thought finally, at my age, something is still growing.

A couple of additional surgeries followed. I was beginning to leave body parts all over Middle Tennessee.

What the heck, at my age if there’s nothing wrong with you, there’s something wrong with you!

I feel really sorry for healthy people – they’re going to die of nothing.

The Oncologist says that I have Stage Four cancer. Is “Stage” the best description they could think of? Stage Four sounds like the final stage of a NASA rocket on its way to the heavens. Disasters like hurricanes and tornados have numbered categories. Cancer is a disaster so why can’t it have its own set of levels? How about:

One Hmmmmmm
Two Darn
Three Oh boy!
Four Sorry

Anyway, after the surgeries they decided to treat me with chemotherapy. After that there were the radiation treatments and many, many cat scans. When I worried about radiation poisoning I was told that was only a concern for people who were expected to live longer than my life expectancy. Great! What a way to lift a guy’s spirits.

If there’s a bright spot to my condition it’s that I’m probably one of the few people for whom smoking isn’t a health risk. I’d probably try it if I didn’t dislike the smell of it so much.

My family was very sympathetic about my getting chemotherapy. When I mentioned that I was concerned about losing the little hair that I had, I asked one of my daughters if she thought my hair loss might ruin my good looks. She said she was glad to see I still had my sense of humor.

She also said I’d be well groomed at last – not a hair out of place.

I was really worried while getting chemo. I was told to keep smiling because a sense of humor was uplifting. I knew that wasn’t going to work. Heck I couldn’t let my hair down – I didn’t have any.

One of my sons told me to make the most of my situation. He told me if I found another bald headed guy we could put our heads together and make an ass of ourselves.

It’s at times like these that family is so comforting.

The good news is that hair loss is only temporary. Now I’m back to being my old unkempt self. In retrospect I miss those days when I didn’t have to shave or spend money on haircuts.

Because hair loss was only temporary one of my children suggested that it might be interesting to take photographs of my bald pate. I agreed, not knowing what I was getting into. Halfway through the ‘shoot” the kids placed a strip of electrical tape down the center of my head so that I’d be able to see what I’d look like with a Mohawk haircut. To quote Rodney Dangerfield, “I don’t get no respect”.

If you have a positive attitude there are still opportunities to find enjoyment in life. I recently got to pull a fast one on my family. After getting so much radiation I kidded them that if I had any more treatments I’d probably glow in the dark. That’s when I discovered Glow Sticks. I got a couple of green ones and taped them under my undershirt. I showed my back to my daughter and asked if she saw anything unusual. Freaked her out.

You know, all of this attention is pretty expensive. I‘ve got more oncologists than Jimmy Carter has peanuts.

Sometimes I think that I’m single handedly keeping the medical community in Middle Tennessee solvent.

One of my oncologists told me that she would give me no more than twelve months to live. I mentioned that my medical bills were huge and I couldn’t pay them all in only twelve months. She gave me another twelve months!

I never before thought of myself as having an expiration date. I feel like a dairy product.

One thing about living close to a teaching hospital – there are so many truly competent medical professionals available to take care of you. I’ve got some great doctors. I have a Jewish doctor who keeps me in stitches and he isn’t even a surgeon.

He has some great jokes. He told me that the Harvard School of Medicine did a study of why Jewish women liked Chinese food so much. Turns out that WonTon spelled backwards is Not Now.

He told me about the bum who walked up to his mother on the street and said, "Lady, I haven't eaten in three days." His mother replied "Force yourself."

The doctors give good advice. I was told not to worry about old age. It doesn’t last that long.

My Doctor told me "You’re in pretty good health other than for the Cancer. You'll probably live to be 75!" Indignant I said "But I’m already 77!" My Doctor said "See! What did I tell you?”

These days, whenever I feel blue, I start breathing again.

Is cancer painful? Sure. Why don’t I complain about the pain? When was the last time you heard someone say “What a great whiner that guy is”.

A lady friend keeps getting lymphoma. We call her a lymphomaniac.

I bought a computer recently. The sales lady told me it had a lifetime guarantee. I asked the woman if she had anything that would last a little longer than that.

At a recent Cancer support group meeting two of my friends and I were talking about death and dying. One friend asked the other “When you're in your casket and friends and family are mourning you, what would you like to hear them say about you?" My friend replied that he would like to hear them say that he was honest and kind and loved his family. The second friend was asked “How about you?” He replied that he also would like to be remembered as being honest and kind and faithful to his family. They then turned to me and said “How about you Bill, what would like to hear them say?” I replied that I’d love for them to say “Look, he’s moving”.

Two friends and I were enjoying an early afternoon chat in front of the hospital recently. “What brings you here Morris?” asked Joe. “Well” said Morris “I woke up at 6:30 this morning and couldn’t pee. Came here and the doctors inserted a catheter and now I feel fine. Why are you here Joe?” I asked. “Well guys, I too woke up at 6:30 this morning and couldn’t have a B.M. so I came here and the doctors did a little probing around my bum and after that everything came out fine. “And how about you Bill?” I was asked. “Well” I said “I too woke up at 6:30 and had a wonderful pee and a fantastic bowel movement.” Curious, Joe said “Well then why are you here?” “Well” I said “I didn’t get out of bed until 8:30!”

I recently had an appointment with my cardiologist. I told him I was going to go off the diet I’d been keeping at his recommendation and was going to start consuming animal fat and salt. I told him I found a great way to beat Cancer – I was going to die of a heart attack!

A doctor told a friend that he got his test results back and he had some serious news to tell my friend. “First of all” said the doctor, “you have Cancer. If that weren’t enough, I’m sorry to have to inform you that in addition you have Alzheimer’s.” “Wow” said my friend, “boy am I lucky. I was afraid I had Cancer.”

Alzheimer’s is a terrible affliction. Did you hear about the elderly man who went into a brothel and told the madam he would like a young woman for the night? Surprised, she looked at the guy and asked how old he was. “I'm 90”, he said. The madam replied “90! Don't you realize you've had it?” “Oh, sorry” said the old man. “How much do I owe you?”

Well, before I forget myself any further I’d better bring this session to a close.

In parting, if I can offer some advice it is this: I believe every day is a gift. What I do with the day is my way of saying “Thank you” for that gift.

What comes next? Oscar Wilde said it best for me. “I am ready to meet my Maker. Whether my Maker is prepared for the ordeal of meeting me is another matter.”

I live each day like it’s my last… and one of these days I’ll get it right! Good Night and God Bless.

By William P. Barrett