Guest Blog: There's Nothing Funny About Cancer, But It's Still Okay To Laugh by Dan Roth

A note from Jennifer: Hi Readers! It's been a long time since my last post. Lots going on with this mom of teens, and not much time or energy for writing. So for this new post I'm trying something new. I'm featuring the writing of my dear friend and writing comrade Dan Roth. 

I met Dan at a local children's writing event in 2011. We, along with a few other writers, started a monthly critique group, where we met and gave each other feedback on our writing. At the time, I was writing a children's picture book. Thanks to Dan and my fellow writers, that book shifted focus and became a much larger project. Every time we met, Dan was ready with his red pen, edits, suggestions, and a whole lot of humor. Dan encouraged me to go places with my writing I would never had gone, and I am a better writer for it. 

Life happens and our group slowly stopped meeting, but we all still kept in touch. However, I was surprised to read on Facebook that Dan had undergone surgery for colon cancer. Not once in the time we had been meeting had he let on that he was struggling with cancer. He just continued to give us his all. And he continued to do that for his family throughout his cancer journey despite feeling sick and scared and overwhelmed. He worked hard to not let cancer change him. Dan is a true warrior and inspiration to me and I am grateful to know him and call him my friend. I hope you'll consider supporting his Kickstarter project "His Mustache Talks." 

In 2018, after three years of chronic fatigue, my doctors finally found the cause. I had colon cancer. As my primary doctor explained, "When you hear fatigue, you don't think colon." He had run blood tests and all sorts of lab work, but it wasn't until I had a colonoscopy that the cancer was found. My tumor had breached the colon and spread to a few lymph nodes. I was instructed to get my affairs in order, but we wouldn't know the full extent of the cancer until after surgery. 

I didn't have the heart to tell my kids the worst case scenario. Instead, I wrote them a farewell story and hid it. The night before surgery I wrote out instructions on where to find the story and sealed it in an envelope. I brought the envelope to the hospital and put it with my personal belongings. If surgery didn't go well, my wife would be given them, and she'd find the note and story.

I made it through surgery and was able to retrieve the note before my wife ever knew about it. I was down half a colon, but the surgeon was confident he had gotten all the cancer. Two days later lab work revealed I had stage III-B colon cancer. I would need chemo but not radiation.

Feeling relieved, I threw away the story I had written to my kids but kept the file. I liked what I had written. It was full of heart and rhythm, plus it had a strong moral without being preachy. But something was definitely a bit off about it. I couldn't quite put my finger on what.

Six weeks later I started chemo. I'm not going to lie, my first round of chemo made me grumpy and I became a bit ill-tempered.  I realized the error of my ways when my kids told me it was okay that I was grumpy, because I was going through chemo. I, in return, told them, "There is never an acceptable excuse for being mean, not even chemotherapy." As the last syllable left my mouth, the gears in my brain began to spin. That's what was missing in my story... a villain. Grumpiness would be the villain in my children's book.

I added in the grumpiness, but then realized I was wrong. It did not solve the problem in the story. I went to my next chemo treatment feeling quite dejected. When the receptionist called my name, I trudged up to her desk. I was wearing an Ohio State hat my mother had sent me, which is significant because my treatment facility was only an hour from Ann Arbor, home of the Michigan Wolverines. 

The receptionist looked me up and down and said, "I was expecting more, with the way your football team plays. Are you sure you're wearing the right hat? Do you want to borrow one of my Michigan hats? They've been playing a bit more like you look?"

I put on a shocked expression and retorted, "My God, I don't look that bad do I?" And we laughed. The gears spun in my head again and this time they spat out the right answer. I knew what was missing... humor. And it wasn't missing from just my story, it was missing from my life. I've always enjoyed a bit of silliness, but it simply hadn't been around since my diagnosis. There, laughing about how bad the Michigan Wolverines were (sorry U of M fans) made me realize how much I missed laughing and how desperately I needed it.  

Inspired, I spent my remaining chemo sessions putting humor back into my life and my children's story. There was one chemo session where I tried to get the other cancer patients to play hide-and-seek with me. It was so silly and preposterous the playfulness spread through the room. One nurse told me afterward it was the only time she had ever heard the infusion room full of laughter.

With humor restored back in my life, the writing became easier and my children's book evolved into "His Mustache Talks." On the surface, "His Mustache Talks" is a silly, whimsical, funny story about a man who must overcome his own grumpiness. It's not until reading the author bio, a separate section at the back of the book, that the deeper meaning is revealed. The story is about my cancer journey.

Cancer is a topic most parents don't like to talk to their children about, but sometimes we have to. By including my journey at the back of the book, I am able to gently explain what cancer is, how cancer is treated and the easy things we can all do to help a cancer survivor in his or her battle.

For instance, while there is nothing funny about cancer, cancer patients still like to laugh and we still enjoy hearing others laugh. I reinforce the humor by explaining how the kitty beard in the book who likes to toot is inspired by something called chemo gas. It's the side effect nobody talks about but everybody remembers (because the toots are so loud and stinky).

A dad with cancer is still a dad, complete with mild potty humor and a great big heart.

Dan Roth is happily married, has two children (ages 12 & 14), and is a colon cancer survivor. Dan graduated from Purdue University as a member of Phi Beta Kappa with a degree in creative writing. He worked in advertising for 20+ years and is currently pursuing a career in publishing and writing. He co-owns the independent publishing house Winking Moon, LLC and wrote the children's book "Princess of the Peas." 

"His Mustache Talks" by Dan Roth is currently being funded through Kickstarter. You can learn more about his cancer journey and support the book at: http://kck.st/3g9CIF2