Terminal

There was a stand-up comic featured on The Project the other night.  Nothing unusual there except his brief was totally different.  It was something that if a person did not get the whole story, would seem so wrong.
His brief was to see if he could glean any material from people who had been diagnosed with a terminal condition.  He found it difficult and challenging, but incredibly rewarding.  I really believe the way he went about it contributed big time to what he got out of it.
There were four people that he sat down with, and got to know really well.  One had cystic fibrosis, and another had been diagnosed with cancer and given 18 months to live.  I do not know what was the case with the other two. 
The thing is, telling someone how long they have is an inexact science at the best of times.  Sometimes it is more, and sometimes it is less. In every case it features a deterioration, and no one wants it.  Never does anyone say “oh cancer, some people get all the luck.”  It is not that way ever.  Physically, it never ends well.
Those who know me know that I feel it is how it ends beyond the physical that is the most important thing.  The rest is important, but less so. Eternity is a long time.
Before he would trial any material, he would get the ok from those concerned.  He made what I felt was an incredibly valid point.  He said when a person is diagnosed and told they have 18 months, it is not all serious from that point on.
What many seem to crave is a degree of normalcy.  If life was a mix of serious and fun, that seems to be what they want for the future.  However someone has faced life, that needs to be respected.  I remember hearing a guy say, “when I crack jokes, I want my kids to laugh not because it came from that sick guy, but because it was a funny and embarrassing dad joke.”
He trialled his material with a test audience that included the four people affected.  They laughed heartily.  Many times, people want to forget their woes even if it is just for a short time.
I like what he did and how he did it.  I could have been very much “woe is me” after my stroke, but that would have not fixed the problem.  While I am very much against burying the head in the sand and in favour of calling a spade a spade, I really do have a choice.
I can choose to be miserable, or I can be serious when I need to be and joke around at other times.  Life is serious enough without me adding unnecessarily to it.