By Scott Reddoch
My buddy posted something about wait staff “throwing hands” at Waffle House. It was a tribute to everything going sideways fast and someone ends up on the floor.
I live with my parents. They’re older and like to take their time with things. I need help with almost everything. My mom was getting something for me in the kitchen and moving slower than I wanted.
I had typed out earlier on my eye-gaze computer: “Hurry up or somebody gonna catch these hands.”
It took me a while to type, which would’ve killed the timing. So I made it a hot key phrase. One button. Perfect timing. My mom laughed. It was unexpected. Besides, I can’t move. Even if I could, I wouldn’t hit my mom.
I’ve had a good sense of humor as far back as I can remember. I like situational stuff. Spontaneous things are funniest to me. After the strokes, my humor got darker. I think it’s hilarious when someone falls or when their plans don’t work. I saw this news story where someone threw a bucket of gas on a guy. He chased them outside and they set him on fire. That’s not supposed to be funny, but I think it is.
There are some things I find humorous that most people don’t. Things that end in death or serious injury might be funny to me, but you’ll never know it. I keep those to myself.
Both my dad and grandfather were intense. I watched ordinary tasks get blown into crises my whole life. If you laugh at it, the fog lifts.
I don’t have the same relationship with anxiety that most people do. Maybe I should. I’m paralyzed, so I have to be hoisted around. It’s a slow process. But there are faster techniques that use human power instead of machines. A few years ago, a physical therapist tried to wrestle me into position during a session. She was transferring me from my wheelchair to an exercise mat. I’m a pretty big guy, and she had a real fight on her hands. There was this look of determination mixed with fear on her face. I could’ve been dropped on the floor. I thought the whole thing was funny.
Most people appreciate my humor. Sometimes someone doesn’t. I usually drop it until the killjoy is gone. I don’t apologize for it. I go through a lot and can still smile. If you can’t, that’s your problem.
Emily gets my humor most. After we watched a video of falls and funny accidents, she told my mom and sister, “Don’t fall in front of him.”
The first four months after my strokes were the hardest. I didn’t see humanity toward me. I don’t remember anything humorous then. It wasn’t until I was seen as a person again that I started being myself. That happened at Touro. Shorty after being admitted I met Michelle, a nurse who was friends with my good friends. We hit it off. She was the first person I started joking with again.
There are really hard moments that trigger emotion, and sometimes you just have to sit in it. I gag almost every time my teeth are brushed. I hate gagging. That’s just something I do daily now. I haven’t learned to accept the discomfort.
I make light of things that would otherwise be too heavy to carry. I absolutely need to find the humor in life to keep going. I wouldn’t have much of an existence without it. Life is too short to be anxious. Anxiety doesn’t find solutions. It just confuses the problem.
Humor won’t fix my condition or make the hard moments go away, but it helps you cope.
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