Laughing is Good for Me- Part 1

There are things that have happened since I’ve been here that have consistently made me laugh when I think about them. I will describe three of them.

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My room has a view of a tiny Greenbelt. People rarely walk by the window. I’ve seen a woman walking her dog go by numerous times but no more than once a day if that. Once a week the facility staff work out there but they use noisy tools so I always know when they are nearby.

I am using a walker all of the time now and I am staying in a studio apartment so if I forget to close the bathroom door or if it swings open because it was not shut fully there is a very remote chance I will be seen.

A friend was visiting about a month ago and I shared my concern. her response was: “Karuna, if someone saw your bum (butt) it would make their day.” I have thought of her statement many times since that day and I always laugh.

***

I have had many medical tests over the last two years and recently had some that when I wrote about them to my son and daughter said “it sounds like i’m writing about a torture chamber”.

I have a friend that’s currently a patient in a hospital in India. When he described two procedures he had, they sounded like two of the three i had recently experienced. He called the equipment ancient medieval torture devices.

I couldn’t believe the words he used were so similar to the words I had used. I felt validated. I always laugh when I think about that memory too. (I got his permission to talk about him.)

***

I have been getting a variety of services from a home health care agency. Last week one of those therapists was doing a cognitive test with me. Afterwords she wondered if having big letters would make it easier for me to read since my eyes tend to sting when I read… so i don’t read.

During the session, she had me read a 100 word story in a big print book. As I read the story, she became mortified. The story was about the death of a cat and the stories in that publication had apparently always been light. This one was pretty grim.

Towards the end of the story, the cat died and was buried. What happened next in the story surprised us both. There was a sound at the door and when the door was opened it was the cat that had died. The author speculated that either they had buried the wrong cat or that he should be renamed Lazarus, because he had come back to life. Whenever I think of the look on the therapist’s face or the sound of her voice as I read the story I laugh.

There are other things that have brought a smile to my face or full-blown laughter. Maybe I’ll write about them in a future post!