Ever since I was a kid humor has been my safety valve when I get hurt.  My classic example comes from when I was around 8 and I thought it would be a good idea to hang upside down from the chin-up bar in my bedroom doorway.  Somehow I slipped off the bar which I don’t remember because I got a concussion.  I do remember my mom taking me to the doctor, who didn’t believe I was concussed because I was playing travel chess and telling nonstop jokes.  Her tune changed when she shined a light in my eyes and I threw up all over her lab coat.  I guess if she didn’t want to deal with it she should have called emetic… (groan)

Fast forward to New Years Day and I managed to fracture the shaft of my ring finger  playing a friendly game of touch football.  It didn’t even hurt very badly, but I knew something was wrong since any time I placed my hand against something I heard a pop like a Snapple lid being pressed.  Happy New Year!

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But something funny happened (haha, get it?) just like it usually does when I’m in this kind of situation – without even consciously thinking about it I started making myself and the people around me laugh, from acting out some bad CSI Miami David Caruso memes with my wife (ready to leave the library? I guess we should book it.  YEAHHHHHHH) to joking with the x-ray tech about how my injury will affect certain activities…

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Whether I’m dealing with emotional pain like Carrie Fisher’s untimely passing or mental pain from Cheeto Hitler’s latest fiasco, I can always count on humor to get me through.  That is, unless my hand gets immobilized to the extent that I can’t play Diablo 3’s Darkening of Tristram event.  FRESHHHH MEATTTT!

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