​​​​​​Because humor is funnier when you know it's true.

Touched by an angel in an inappropriate place

IN THE BEGINNING, they claimed they never promised us a rose garden. Never said there wasn’t one, so I assumed I’d wake up and bees would be a buzzin’.

Then someone up there, said, “Hey lady, wanna learn some great lessons?” Before I could answer, like everyone else in some manner, I endured grief, disappointments, illness including cancer and, more recently, brain surgery, plus some bad fish.

Fortunately, I have a congenital condition known as Opticockyitis, named after the doctor who diagnosed it in a cocker spaniel. It’s an affliction causing me to observe most situations a bit off center. Can’t help myself. It is like being born with a Whoopee cushion in my head. Whenever I was dealt a major blow in life, and after I finished crying, moaning, and complaining, my ability to observe the moment with this unusual perspective saved my life, according to my physicians.

But I have a confession to make. After first being touched by an angel in an inappropriate place, I was shocked. “Not me, not cancer.” I had mammograms every year, ate well, jogged, practiced yoga, laughed and made love frequently (sometimes at the same time — talk about multi-tasking or ADD) so, of course, I had to be immune.

As a motivational seminar leader, teaching about the connection between mind and body, stressing humor was an important element. In my workshops I taught that increasing the laughter in one’s life is essential to one’s wellbeing. I was a newspaper humor columnist and an author of funny survival books. I was founder of the International Humor & Healing Institute and a Certified Master Clinical Hypnotherapist. How could this have happened? No one in my family had cancer. I did not fit any statistics: oh yeah, except the part about early detection. My trusted radiologist made a major error: He hadn’t noticed the cancer during the last few mammograms in the fourteen years he was my doctor. OOPS!