Finding Humor in Dark Places

Although Gracie tried to hide a smile while rolling her eyes at my goofiness, the elevator occupants all flinched and immediately and found something interesting to see on their collective shoes.

Backing her out when the doors opened, I turned and gave a parting shot over my shoulder, "She put up a fight  — God love her!"

Despite post-surgical discomfort, Gracie laughed all the way to the car. I don't know what others do following a loved one's 80th surgery, but being able to laugh makes the journey a bit easier.

A sense of humor can detach from heartache without detaching from the person. Humor helps us discover that although we're still paddling on whitewater rapids as a caregiver, we can travel downstream instead of exhausting ourselves pushing upstream against the current.

Like most caregivers, I possess a painfully serious side. Yet intense situations, somberness often needs a pressure valve release. Humor helps. In the ER one night, I ushered Gracie to the waiting staff and quickly rattled off enough stats and case history to help them do their job. Standing next to her gurney while wearing a nice suit and confidently speaking "medical-ese," the nurse made an assumption and asked, "Are you a doctor?"

Without missing a beat, I assured her I was a "cranial proctologist." Nodding with a puzzled look, she performed triage on my wife while probably making a mental note to research how those two things connected.

Humor doesn't have to be a defense mechanism, nor must it be snarky at someone else's expense. Rather than living in the punchline, the healing power of humor is that it's a lifeline to a bright blue sky above the dark clouds of heartache. While we can't always see it, our hearts are comforted to know joy and beauty  — though often hidden by suffering  — still remain.

As caregivers, we will cry. Yet, those tears don't have to be full of rage and despair. Healthy tears are the goal. When those flow, we discover that even laughter can flow as well.

Sometimes, we need a little help from those who've weathered the storms. The permission to laugh often comes from those with the most scars. The places of our greatest sorrows can also serve as markers of great freedom  — and even beauty. So, when I say you might be a caregiver "…if a hospital bed has never hampered your love life, and there's no use wasting a "semi-private" room," you'll understand the joke  — while embracing the concept that even in serious places, there's always room for love wrapped in a bit of humor.

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Peter Rosenberger (@hope4caregiver) hosts the national radio program Hope for the Caregiver. For more than 30 years, he's cared for his wife. He is the author of "7 Caregiver Landmines and How You Can Avoid Them."