Durham Herald Sun

Laughter as a medicine
Humor tune-up may be just what some cancer patients need

By HOPE ULLMAN heu@herald-sun.com; 419-6660
The Herald-Sun
Sunday, May 05, 2002
Final Edition
Life Section
Page E1

"They've just let me out. Can I come in?"

With that, Martin Brossman wheels the laugh mobile into Mary Rebecca Jennings' hospital room.

Aside from the head boppers he wears and the raccoon puppet he dangles over fellow volunteer Sarah Bruck's head, Brossman appears fairly normal ... except that he's just produced some sort of crazy, clacking device that looks like a plastic parrot head on a stick.

Rather than run down the corridor screaming or call hospital security, Jennings bursts out laughing as Brossman gives her a "humor tune-up" by waving the clacking bird around her, from head to toe.

Her childhood friend - Jenine Clements, who's in town for a visit - gets a humor tune-up, too. Soon both women are laughing.

Getting ready to roll

Moments earlier on the ninth floor of Duke University Medical Center, Brossman and Bruck meet in the oncology recreation therapy room to prepare the laugh mobile, don their head boppers and check the list of patients they'll visit.

Along with the usual assortment of humor books, audiotapes, props and toys, Brossman has brought along a bag of magic tricks and a puppet named Rocky Raccoon.

"The goal isn't entertaining [the patients]," Brossman says. "It's to support their healing process. We're creating a space, with humor and joy, for someone to experience whatever they need to experience, whether through laughter or crying."

By day, Brossman is a Raleigh-based personal consultant and Bruck is a violin teacher from Chapel Hill, but tonight they're simply two volunteers here to spend some time with folks who have cancer.

The laugh mobile program was invented in 1987 by Durham resident Ruth Hamilton, founder and executive director of the Carolina Humor and Health Association, (Carolina HAHA) (*CORRECTION NOTE: Should be Carolina Health and Humor Association).

Coordinated with the Department of Oncology Recreation Therapy, it's essentially a humor cart on wheels, with a circus motif. Humor volunteers may do yo-yo demonstrations, strum guitars, chat with patients or simply lend an ear. They've also been known to dispense a water gun or two in their day, since there's nothing doctors and nurses love more than getting doused by a patient ... Well, at least the patients seem to like it. Hamilton has helped dozens of hospitals nationwide get the laugh mobile program, which is part of Carolina HAHA's Duke Humor Project.

"We're working to create a similar program at N.C. Memorial Hospital in Chapel Hill," she said.

Laughter, prayer and hope

Back in Jennings' room, Brossman's holding a tennis ball, a prop for his first magic trick of the night. Jennings watches intently from her hospital bed.

Brossman: "This is the famous multiplying balls trick. Can you think of a magic word?"

Jennings: "Bippitty Boppitty Boo."

The tennis ball's mouth pops open: "Two times two equals four," it says in a high, squeaky voice.

Bruck learns that Jennings is from Santa Fe, N.M. The two chat about the region.

Jennings: "Well, who are you all?"

Brossman: "Well, I was released..." he jokes, before giving her the real lowdown.

Jennings, 52, has breast cancer. She's been coming to Duke University Medical Center since January, but she's been treated since August 2000. This is her second encounter with the laugh mobile, which comes around twice a week to inpatient cancer patients who are up for a visit.

"I love it," Jennings said. "It immediately takes your mind off your cancer and probably you get endorphins [from the laughter], which is healing. I can't help but laugh when they come in."

What else helps besides laughter?

Jennings: "Prayer, lots of prayer."

Clements: "And a lot of hope, right?"

Hamilton takes a turn

As Hamilton rolls the laugh mobile down the corridor, head boppers wiggling as she walks, she greets everyone with a kind word and a smile.

"Have you seen our laugh mobile?" Hamilton asks a woman being pushed in a wheelchair.

"Honey, I'm more interested in food," the woman says. "I'm starved."

Hamilton laughs.

Some patients aren't up for a visit, so Hamilton gives them a big smile and rolls on. Along with the usual fare, she's got a pink, yellow and green feather duster and a Mr. Potato Head massager.

Lying in bed, with a female visitor by her side, Lillie Collymore says she isn't up for much, but she'll take a humor tune-up.

Hamilton: "It won't hurt. I promise. What I'm going to do is check your humor reflexes." Hamilton shakes the clacking parrot head over Collymore's body. Collymore bursts out laughing.

Hamilton: "Woo! Girl! You got good humor reflexes," she says, whipping out the feather duster. "What I'm going to do now is brush off all the stress so any humor you feel can come through." Next, she picks up an absurdly large pair of plastic scissors and asks Collymore if there's anything she wants to cut out.

"Yes, we cut out my low blood count," Collymore says with a smile, her new head boppers, bopping.

Collymore has acute leukemia. Like many cancer patients here, she's been in and out of the hospital many times. Nearly bald, she is wearing a pink, yellow and purple cap. She claims she's 57, but - as she gestures enthusiastically while talking, her enormous grin bringing the hospital room to life - it is hard to believe she's not 20 years younger.

"I'm happy inside," Collymore says. "It comes from inside ... With God first, and laughter, everything's got to get well."

Humor isn't an instant cure, but it can help in the healing process by letting people view their stress, pain and challenges in a softer light, Hamilton says. For years, medical folks have seen that patients who keep a positive mental attitude and share laughter respond better to medical treatment.

"Physiological responses to laughter include increased respiration, circulation, hormonal and digestive enzyme secretion, and a leveling of the blood pressure," Hamilton says. Plus, on a less technical note, it feels good to laugh.

"Medicine can go so far and what we're supplying is an avenue for them to lift up their attitude and spirit."

Brossman and Bruck redux

An elderly woman lies in her hospital bed, her husband sits quietly in a chair in the corner.

Bruck: "Hi, I'm here with the laugh mobile. Would you like a visit?"

Brossman dangles Rocky Raccoon over Bruck's head as she talks.

The woman hesitates, then agrees to one magic trick. Brossman holds the magic rope and repeats, "Stand up. Shazam." The rope falls.

He asks the woman to think up a magic word and say it while waving her hands over the rope.

The rope stands up and a grin spreads across her husband's face.

"I didn't think you liked magic, baby," he says. "Well, I'll be darned."

Ninth-floor dynamo

Kermit Gurley's face lights up the moment Bruck and Brossman walk into his room. The smiling, 64-year-old Goldsboro resident wants to know who they are, where they're from, and share his own tales.

Brossman: "I'm originally from Washington D.C. ... But don't hold that against me. I have nothing to do with politics."

Bruck and Brossman compliment Gurley on his fine head of hair. It's his second, he tells them. The first fell out after his second dose of chemotherapy.

Brossman: "I noticed on the sheet you haven't had a humor tune-up today. Would you mind if I gave you a tune-up?"

Brossman runs the clacking bird over Gurley, then gives him a small card that reads, "This certificate allows you to experience humor and joy spontaneously at any time. It also authorizes you to certify others in having the same experience."

Gurley: "Oh, well that's awful nice ... Now where are you from little lady?"

Bruck and Brossman listen as Gurley talks of places he's traveled, people he's known and careers he's had along the way. Their gift of listening seems just the medicine he needs.

Gurley: "Will you come back tomorrow?" Brossman explains the laugh mobile comes around twice a week, but there's an oncology recreation therapy group he can visit every day. This news brings a smile to Gurley's face.

Brossman: "You're so much fun. I want to give you a little extra prop. (A bright red clown nose). Put this on and when the doctor comes in say ..."

Gurley: "The bleeding's up here (pointing to his nose) not in here (pointing to his stomach)."

Precisely.

Outside in the corridor, Brossman explains, "I'm sort of working to bring out the comedian in them. You want to listen for what is there and try to draw it out and play it up."

Volunteers develop a sixth sense for what patients need and they learn to ask questions other than, "How do you feel?" Instead they may ask about their hometown, what they're passionate about or who those adorable-looking children are in the framed photographs up on the shelf.

Who's inspiring whom?

Gurley's had cancer since early 1999. He's been in and out of the hospital, he's tried chemotherapy treatments and he's tried a new drug.

"I had bone, liver and lymphoma at one time," he says. "We got it pretty well. ... Well, we thought we had."

He'd been feeling pretty good until the internal bleeding started, forcing him to come back to the hospital.

Gurley: "But I'm sure I'm going to be all right."

His optimism and joy are breathtaking.

"What's your secret?" a visitor asks.

Gurley: "I love everyone and I never met a stranger." They're simply friends you've yet to know, he says.

Strange how many of these patients seem so much more tuned in to what's truly important, more appreciative of life, more aware of the value of connecting with others, than most. There is warmth here, gratitude and a life-affirming spirit - all too rare outside of these walls.

From their hospital beds, these patients inspire those who venture in.

"That's one of the driving forces with me, to be with the patients, because in many ways they're more alive than people you meet in every day life, because they realize how precious life is," Brossman said.

"I believe that, for some people, when they're faced with their own mortality - which is what often occurs with something as serious as cancer - we realize how precious and vulnerable life is. And how much we take it for granted. And how much beauty and great things actually are in the world as we attend to them."

"That's part of what gets us [volunteers] there. I go there for me. I go there because of what I get out of it."

That horrendous traffic jam, that personal setback, that bad day at work - it all fades, because none of it matters when you're here with the patients.

Rubber chicken, anyone?

"I've already been through this cancer thing before, so I have no problem laughing," 29-year-old Durham resident Neal Hunter says, from his hospital bed. Laughter's great for taking your mind off other things, he adds.

"Do the doctors need to laugh more?" a visitor asks.

Hunter: "They do. They are very uptight. Their job is very intense."

Hunter's eating dinner in bed and visiting with friends when Hamilton comes knocking. He smiles and waves her in. She shows him the selection of humor audiotapes.

Hunter: "I think I'll check out the weird Al Yankovich. He's pretty silly."

Hamilton gives him a humor tune-up, dusts off his stress and presents him with a big, goofy-looking, sparkly green ring.

Before heading out, she leaves a rubber chicken behind so Hunter can play a little joke on the dietary staff. A self-declared prankster, Hunter likes the sound of the plan: He'll hide the rubber chicken under the plate lid. When they come to clear his tray and ask how the food was, he'll lift the lid and say, "I don't think this chicken was cooked well. It's just too tough to eat."

Bad-hair day, no-hair day

Hamilton: "Hello, Hello. Here's the laugh mobile."

Clad in blue and white striped pajamas, a beige wrap on her head, Esther Powers, 63, welcomes Hamilton, who has her laughing right away.

Hamilton suggests the humor book, "Not now, I'm having a no-hair day."

Powers: "Oh yes. I love that. I love anything that's comical. Have you got whoopee cushions?"

Next, it's time for a humor tune-up.

"Woo girl!" Hamilton says. "I'm gonna get you all dusted off and de-stressed so you can laugh more." (It works). Hamilton gives her a "URAQT" sticker and takes out Mr. Potato Head.

Hamilton: "This is a Mr. Potato Head massager. You can walk it all over you. You can do whatever you want with it.

Powers: "Don't give me any ideas."

Hamilton: "Woo hoo!" (Now everyone in the room laughs.)

When you hear the word "cancer," laughter may not be the first thing that comes to your mind. It may even sound downright bizarre to link the two, but Powers and others have found a connection.

"When they first told me I had cancer, you feel your world has dropped out from under you," the Robbins resident said. "Your attitude makes all the difference ... After a lot of crying, with the Lord's help, that laughter came right back. You've got to do a lot of prayer too."

Rolling down the hospital corridor

Bruck and Brossman check their patient list and roll to the next room. A woman in bed is watching "Jeopardy." She's really into the show and does not want to miss a minute of the action. The volunteers tell her to enjoy and keep rolling. Some patients are sleeping, others have doctors or nurses in the room and some simply aren't up to a visit. So the volunteers move on.

Bruck: "We try not to interrupt the natural flow."

All night long, Bruck's been trying to crack a mystery and it seems she's finally got it.

Bruck: "I think I figured out the rope trick."

Brossman: "You did? You want to try it?"

She gives it a go and aces it.

Outside a patient's room, an open card reads: "When facing a difficult task, act as though it is impossible to fail. If you're going after Moby Dick, take along tartar sauce."