When I first received the cancer diagnosis in the fall of 2004, my husband, Scott, told me he felt gut-punched. I remember he was so devastated by the news, he had to sit down. He'd been so busy telling me I didn't have cancer, he hadn't considered the possibility I might have it.
While I had my share of anxiety, I trusted that whatever God allowed through the cancer would ultimately be good. Even if I died, I had to believe God was still in control and with us.
Once Scott and I settled into the reality of my diagnosis, we realized that being upset or depressed didn't change our situation. We knew the Bible says to rejoice in all things (Philippians 4:4), and that must include cancer. So we set about to find humor and joy even in the darkest times. For us, that was part of keeping our sanity—and keeping fear at a distance.
It became Scott's goal to make me laugh as much as possible. Early on, when we were discussing a possible treatment of double mastectomy with reconstructive surgery, Scott looked mischievously from me to the doctor and asked, "Do you think we could get an upgrade?"
Although I could have become angry that he wasn't taking my disease seriously, it would have only made the situation worse. His humor lightened the tension and made us all laugh—something we desperately needed.1