Speaking of pain

Careful with your humor.

Yesterday I was in a meeting, and a colleague made a completely harmless joke that I recognized was funny. And it hit me wrong.

The details of the joke don’t matter, except it was a twist on a previous running gag that popped up a lot in past meetings. In that running gag, I was a participant. Yesterday, the joke was on me.

There was a laugh, and then a second laugh at my reaction, and then a few minutes later yet another laugh at my reaction. And each time it was a little worse.

Now again, the joke was harmless, and I could see how it was funny. But it hit me wrong and then got heavier.

In case you haven’t heard, I was diagnosed in July with young onset Parkinson’s disease. I’ve been downright thankful for how slowly it seems to be progressing, but lately I am being reminded that it is, in fact, progressing.

My hearing has been bad for ten years, but it’s been predictably bad. Now I can tell that it’s getting worse. I’ve just bought a pair of hearing aids which are not working the way they’re supposed to. I’m having to enunciate harder and harder, or my speech slurs. Keep in mind that I lecture for a living, and I teach public speaking. The hearing impairment is extra unhelpful with that last one.

I also am typing more slowly, and I have to correct a zillion typos, because my fingers are getting weaker, so I can’t strike the keys consistently. That weakness also extends to my grip strength, which means at least a couple of times in an average week I grab something, only to immediately fumble and drop it.

Don’t get the wrong idea; I’m not minutes from death. All the developments are subtle enough that I don’t think anyone notices but me. But I do notice them. And they make it harder to laugh along when someone makes a joke out of taking something away from me. It just goes on top of the growing pile of things I’m losing.

No one could blame you if you thought this was childish and I was terribly insecure. That is correct: I am insecure, by multiple definitions of that word. I have a progressive neurodegenerative disease, and my body is crumbling. It’s crumbling slowly, but it’s a one-way street and entirely incurable.

And the joke itself was almost weightless, but the laugh that followed it, and the second laugh, and the third laugh, I could have done without. Insecurity does not put one in a good frame of mind to be laughed at by a room full of colleagues.

Not that I’m writing this to depict those colleagues as unkind or poorly behaved. They had no way of knowing. They are aware of my diagnosis, because I’ve been completely open about it, but the recent developments aren’t anything I’ve talked about. Everyone is busy, everyone has their own concerns, and it just doesn’t fit comfortably into hallway conversations.

But that’s reason #2 I’m posting this here.

Reason #1 is purely for the therapeutic effect. This is the only social media I’m on, and at least some people who’ll see this are people I’ve known for a very long time.

Reason #2 is that you don’t know about the people you work with.

About two weeks ago I taught a unit in my intro class about humor. That unit includes the counsel that you should be very careful about making anyone the butt of a joke. Humor in which everyone participates and no one is the target is the best fit for the workplace. You and a close friend might savagely attack one another and laugh yourselves weak, but work colleagues are not close friends, and you’re not in a position to know how the joke will land.

It’s possible someone involved in the meeting will spot this. If that happens, I hope it’s clear that this is about making a broader point, not complaining about yesterday. But even so, I think if I spoke to the one who joked and the ones who laughed, I would say something like this:

Someday, if it isn’t already underway, your body will begin to break, and you will lose abilities that you’ve taken for granted since you were a child. And on some days you might find it easy, or at least possible, to be lighthearted and make Shake-N-Bake jokes. But then one day, quite innocently, someone will play a harmless, genuinely funny gag on you about taking something away. And when you experience it first-hand, when you're not just the audience for it, you’ll know.?

And I entirely forgive you.