Hey, have you heard this one?
A guy enters a bar and claims an empty seat. After a glance around the joint, he realizes he’s the only customer. No big deal. This guy is tired and thirsty. The barkeep arrives to take his order.
The guy says, “Beer, please,” and soon he’s enjoying a tall, cold brew.
The barkeep scoots a bowl of peanuts towards the customer. He then mutters about a quick chore in the back and departs.
After his first sip, the guy hears someone whisper, “You are a good looking fella.”
He checks right and left. Hmmm? No one around. He downs more beer. He munches a handful of peanuts.
“Nice haircut.”
Our befuddled customer slowly rotates on the stool, peering into the bar’s darkest nooks and crannies. No one! Just before his next sip—this time more a gulp—there’s another whisper: “I love that shirt you’re wearing. It is so your color.”
The barkeep returns, hefting a tray of wine glasses and beer steins.
“Hey,” the guy begins, “a strange thing--”
“Been hearing voices, haven’t you,” the barkeep interrupts. He eases the tray down and nods toward the bowl of nuts. “It’s those peanuts. They’re complimentary.”
Ha! Ha! Ha! They’re complimentary!
I remember the physician at one of our hospice meetings telling this silly joke. We were waiting for a key medical document to be retrieved from the files and, during the lull, the good doctor told a joke that one of his patients had shared with him earlier in the week.
At the meeting, moments before, the doctor, nurses, social workers, chaplains and home health aides had been reviewing the death of a month-old child. We had also started discussing how to best care for a 59-year-old woman with amyotrophic lateral sclerosis (aka, Lou Gehrig’s disease). The dying woman had just been admitted to our care.
Was the joke gallows humor? Or was it inappropriate?
I hope not.
Even in the worst of times, whether a dying patient, a weary caregiver or one of the hospice staff attempting to find ways to help, we can’t forget laughter. We tell old jokes. We recall a childhood prank. We reveal the embarrassing story behind our nickname. We laugh together, with each other and for each other.
Death will come. Grief will follow.
We won’t be ready for it. It is always that way. But we are yet alive and though we weep and shout and question, we also can grasp those precious moments where at least a hint of joy is part of our shared journey.
When has laughter helped you get through some of the worst?
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My book, A Companion for the Hospice Journey, is available at Amazon.
And, by the by, one of the chapters in my book is about the five stages of laughter for grievers. I think it offers a few helpful insights for those struggling with their grief.