Author: Percy McIntosh
Diagnosis: Medulloblastoma (at age 9)
What do you call a man who floats in water?
Bob.
I love to laugh, I always have. When I began my journey after a diagnosis of cancer, I learned that laughing wasn’t just a thing I like to do but the best tool in my emotional toolbox.
After my medulloblastoma diagnosis in 2017, humour began playing a larger role in my life. Laughing and cracking jokes became great ways to escape my harsh reality. I have always believed the difficult parts of life can be made easier when looked at through a comedic lens. Charlie Chaplin once said, “Life is a tragedy when seen in close-up, but a comedy in long-shot.” Stripping away the filmmaking metaphor, I take that to mean when we look at the bigger picture, we can find light and humour in what burdens us at face value.
As if cancer wasn’t bad enough, after the surgery to remove my brain tumour I was left mute and partially paralyzed. Interestingly, during my mutism, the first sound I made was laughter. (Sorry cancer, looks like you can’t kill the humour bug.) My humour also helped me regain my voice in speech therapy. Turns out, even losing my ability to speak couldn’t stop me from wanting to tell jokes.
Don’t just take my word for the healing power of comedy. Listen to (shudder) science (can you tell I’m majoring in social science?). In psychology, humour is known as a “cognitive reframer.” Essentially, it alters the way your brain deals with threats or stressors. When you laugh, your brain releases endorphins, feel-good chemicals that reduce stress (see kids, laughter is way better than drugs).
As a result of being in the hospital between the ages of nine and ten, I missed out on a lot of important fundamental social skills. I am truly grateful for how comedy was able to carry me socially through middle school and high school and will hopefully score me some friends at university. In fact, there’s a hack I learned that I intend on using at university: if you’re funny and fun to be around, there’s a good chance people will like you and be keen on helping you out. Don’t be a goofball around all teachers though; some are old and no fun…so be careful! A comedian’s best strength is being able to read the room. Sometimes being serious to get on the teacher’s good side will help build bridges to where you want to go.
Ultimately, I find that using humour as a crutch isn’t about forgetting the pain; it’s about having the last laugh.
This story was written by a childhood cancer survivor for the fall 2026 issue of the POGO School and Work Transitions Program newsletter.
