Cancer is no laughing matter, but coming from a family of joksters, my mom's diagnosis back in 2004 opened the door for a comic thread that carried on into the memorial service/cocktail party two years later.

Although I am a professional comic playwright, and I  am friends with the Colon Cancer Comic (you've got to see Mary Andrew's hilarious and moving one woman show, The Poopinator,) it took me awhile to get a comic handle on the dreadful questions hurled at me by bystanders observing our unfolding family tragedy--seeing us in the Cancer Zone. 

(Mary Andrews--The Poopinator!)

As soon as a friend, an acquaintance, or even the man-on-the-street discovered I had a loved one who was seriously ill, I ran into a typical line of questioning.

They: Oh no, your mother is not well. What does she have?

Me: Cancer.

They: Awful, what kind of cancer?

Me: Lung Cancer

(Bet you can predict the next question.)

They: Did she smoke?

Now perhaps pre-cancerous mom I would have asked a similar line of questions to a grieving friend. These questions seem automatic, like when you start to pee; it's just so darn hard to stop midstream. But suddenly, in the Cancer Zone, though the final question seemed ugly, cruel, and  completely unnecessary. 

Because if I answered,

a) No, she did not smoke a day in her life. 

Then I am reminded of the tragic irony of it all. The dumb luck. Evil fate. 

If I answered,

b) Yes, she smoked a pack a day since she was 16.

Then the unspoken inference choking the air places the blame squarely on my mom. Play with fire, and you will get burned. 

No comfort in either of those answers. And it took me some time to come up with an effective comic response. And until I did "They" bombarded me with cancer stories. These typically came in two genres.

1. The Miracle Cure

My sister's best friend had an aunt who was dying of cancer. They gave her three months to live (or three days or three minutes.) She heard about a mule in Hondurus that suddenly began to graze at a holy shrine. No one knew where the mule came from, but it was pure white. The locals discovered that if you bathed in the mule's urine it would cure the sick. So this lady went down there, took the white mule bath. Now she is totally healed! They can't find a single trace of cancer anywhere in her body.

2. The Horror Story

My sister's best friend had an aunt who was dying of cancer. First it was just an isolated patch of cancer on her right butt cheek but then it spread to her nose and her fingers and her ears and her tongue and her... 

Ugh. My mother was not about to bath in donkey piss, and I did not need to hear any more horror stories. So I finally devised the perfect passive aggressive comic response that always silenced the questioners. 

They: Did she smoke?

Me: (I pause for dramatic effect) No, it was weird... (I scan my memory banks for what I knew about the questioner) She never smoked a day in her life, but just like you she was a school teacher... (or vacationed in Spain or drove a VW or did a lot of gardening or licked stamps...) Recent studies reveal just how high risk that is for lung cancer. 

They immediately ran away. 

I know it was mean of me and a little petty. They most likely meant no harm and just weren't thinking. But when you are in the Cancer Zone, you need to take care of yourself. Shield yourself. Humor yourself.

My mom knew this better than most. Three months before she died, she called a family summit. My dad, two sisters, and I gathered  around the kitchen table. Not yet on oxygen and gasping between sentences, my mom addressed us with her rich deep New York-accented voice, a cross between Lauren Bacall and Harvey Fierstein.

"I talked to Patrick at the funeral parlor. I made my arrangements. Now when it comes my time, I don't want a wake. I don't want a funeral. Don't lay me out. Just cremate me."

We sat in muted agitation. Why are we talking about this now? Let's hope and dream a little bit longer.

She continued. "Now if you want to have a memorial service, because you need that kind of thing. Fine."

Then with her perfect comic timing and her best dry tone, she added,

"Just leave me out of it."

 (Anita Toscano--aka Mom. 1936-2006)