The Magic of Humor
Humor helps us cope with challenges that would otherwise bother or even overwhelm us

By Richard R. Rubin, Ph.D., C.D.E.
Publish Date: June 2005


I want to return to a theme I’ve taken previously: “reframing.” Reframing means looking at something that you’re struggling with from a different perspective, from a point of view that makes the situation feel more manageable. When a situation feels more manageable, it almost always is more manageable. That’s because feeling comfortable makes it easier to work at something until it’s right. And there’s not much doubt that taking good care of yourself takes lots of work.

I have talked about some “positive frames” you can use to help you maintain your motivation for good self-care. These frames include: Letting Go, Love, Celebration, and Faith and Hope.

I’d like to talk about one of my favorite frames, the frame of humor. Now you might be thinking, “There’s nothing humorous about diabetes.” And I’ll admit it can sometimes be tough to find anything about diabetes to laugh about. But have you ever heard someone say, “I don’t know how I would have made it if it wasn’t for my sense of humor?” Maybe you’ve even said something similar yourself.

Humor is magical. I don’t have diabetes, but humor has certainly saved the day in lots of diabetes-related interactions with my son. Here’s one. When my son Stefan was first diagnosed with diabetes in 1979 he took only one shot of insulin a day. About a year later he had to start taking a shot at dinner as well. For some reason, this second shot felt like the end of the world to my then nine-year-old son. Up to that point he had been so wonderfully positive about all the stuff he had to do to take care of his diabetes. But no longer. Every dinnertime became a nightmare, with Stefan screaming and crying and pleading to be spared this second shot. “Why can’t I just take one shot a day!?” he would shout.

For weeks I tried to answer this question, explaining as patiently as I could that the second shot was to help keep his blood sugars in control. I even drew more and more elaborate diagrams for him, showing him in pictures exactly why he couldn’t take just one shot a day.

Several weeks went by this way. Stefan kept asking his nightly question and I kept offering my nightly explanations. We were getting nowhere. Until the day I finally got it. That night I responded to Stefan’s question differently.

“I can’t think of any reason in the world why you can’t have one shot a day,” I said. “But why stop there, how about one shot a week?” Stefan’s first response was a puzzled look. Then his eyes brightened and he joined right in, “Could we make that one shot a month?” he asked. Not to be outdone, I said, “Let’s go for it, how about one shot a year!”

Stefan’s frowned for a moment. Then, spreading his arms as far apart as he could, he added, “But think about how big the syringe would be!” Laughing he quickly calculated the answer: 12,775 units. One very big syringe, we both agreed, as he took his dinner shot without protest for the first time ever. What a relief. And Stefan never again fought his dinner shot.

I told you humor is magical. Only it just seems like magic. What was really going on that night between my son and me was something else. I finally got the fact that he wasn’t really complaining about that second shot. He was actually telling me he was feeling overwhelmed. That second shot was the straw that broke the camel’s back. He had been managing his life with diabetes fine until then, but that was one straw too many and he broke down. Looking up, he saw the last thing that had been added to his load and quite naturally decided that that last straw was his problem. In fact his real problem wasn’t the last straw but the fact he was feeling overwhelmed. I should have recognized that earlier, of course. If he really wanted to know why he needed the second shot, my explanations would have satisfied him weeks earlier. When I finally realized that Stefan was asking something else, helping him lighten the load he was bearing, I gave him what he needed.

What he needed was lifting up, and for us laughing together at a problem we had struggled with for weeks was very uplifting. Uplifting enough for him to get right back to taking wonderful care of his diabetes, something he has been doing for more than 20 years now.

I would probably have gotten things straight with Stefan quicker if I’d followed the advice of my favorite philosopher, W.C. Fields, who said, “If it at first you don’t succeed, try again. Then quit. There’s no sense making a damn fool out of yourself.” I should have seen sooner that my son wasn’t asking the question I thought he was.

There’s a lesson here. When you have diabetes you have more to deal with than most people. So you’re more likely to find yourself, as my son did, having just been delivered your own personal “last straw.” When that happens, think (sooner than I did, hopefully) about the possibility that your problem is not that particular last straw, but the whole feeling of being overwhelmed. If your problem is more general than specific, there are lots of ways to lighten your load. Humor is one of the best ways.

I know a woman who had just been diagnosed with diabetes. When her doctor asked her what she was going to tell her family, she replied, “I’ve always said to them that I was the sweetest one in the family. Now I can tell them it’s a proven fact.” I know that woman’s humor will come in handy in the years to come.

Another woman told me about an experience she had with her husband the night before. He awakened in the midst of a major low blood sugar reaction, urinating into a window fan that he mistook in his hypoglycemic state for the toilet. Once he had taken something to bring his blood sugars back up, his wife was braced for the worst. It seems they often had big fights after he was low in the middle of the night.

But not this night. The woman watched in amazement as her husband broke into peals of laughter. Thinking he might still be low she asked what was up. Apparently recalling the fan had been on when he urinated into it, her husband replied, “I was just thinking what would have happened if I’d been four inches closer to that fan!” At that they laughed until they cried, gave each other a big hug, and went back to bed. The usual post-low hassles were banished for once.

That’s the magic of humor. It helps us cope with challenges that would otherwise bother or even overwhelm us. These challenges may be diabetes-related or not, including problems at work or home. Humor feels good, too. And it’s good for you. Laughing has even been called “internal jogging.” In fact, laughing seems to release endorphins just like exercise does. So you may be able to get a “runner’s high” by just laughing.

Any way you look at it, adding a little laughter to your life is a good thing. I hope this article will help you start doing just that.


Richard Rubin, Ph.D., C.D.E., associate professor of medicine and pediatrics at Johns Hopkins, is the co-author of "Psyching Out Diabetes: A Positive Approach to Your Negative Emotions," "Sweet Kids," and "The Johns Hopkins Guide to Diabetes." He also has written extensively on the effects of diabetes education, psychological problems associated with diabetes and techniques for counseling people with diabetes.

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