It’s true, laughter can be the best medicine
I can relate very well to Ileana von Hirsch and her ‘seeing the funny side’ attitude to being diagnosed with cancer (Mail). It happened to me last year and it was cancer of the oesophagus. I decided that it was just as easy being cheerful during the treatment and the operation as being miserable. as I am a musician, I am used to interacting with people and sharing a joke. So while completing my course of chemotherapy and radiotherapy, I always managed to exchange a few laughs with the staff. One remarked that I was the most cheerful cancer patient they had ever known. I was then sent to a specialised unit to assess if I was healthy enough to get over my operation. One test entailed getting on a static bicycle and pedalling, with my stamina being monitored. The nurse began attaching various wires to me. as she approached with the last one, I remarked that the wire looked as though it had an electric plug on the end (it didn’t). as she attached it, I jumped in the saddle as though I had got an electric shock. needless to say she recoiled from this and gave me a playful clout (well deserved). When I went for the operation I asked the surgeon just before I went under if the knife was sharp. When it was time to leave I got hugs from several nurses who said they were sorry to see me go. I got excellent care at castle Hill Hospital in Hull and have made a full recovery.
gordon Simpson, scunthorpe, lincs. ‘cancer’S no laughing matter,’ writes Ileana von Hirsch. But — as she demonstrates — it certainly can be. When I had my prostatectomy, my nurses called my humour very deadpan. ‘More “bedpan” at the moment,’ I replied. as a survivor (13 years ago now), I’m allowed to joke about it.
Vincent Hefter, richmond, surrey.