The Nobel Prize in Medicine Goes To...

Seventeen months ago I introduced all of you to my friend Pam Cole, who had just been given a cancer diagnosis. Since that time I have informed you of her progress from time to time in this space. There is no finish line when it comes to cancer, I’ve learned. Although she is done with all the treatments, she will still be going back periodically for scans and blood work for the rest of her life. Each clean scan she gets will be an excuse for a party. She has one last procedure coming up on December 29...unless COVID postpones it yet again! But, what a battle it has been. A year ago, she was about as sick as a human being could be without actually being dead. Now, she’s baking goodies for a sick friend, and just got back from her first weekend away outing with some girl friends to Williamsburg. Amazing.

We chatted this morning about what its been like for her, this past year and a half. Of course, she gave all the credit to God and her doctors, which is probably technically appropriate. But I hastened to point out another theory as to her successful battle with cancer...my jokes. I’ve actually done some tabulating and have been shocked to discover that since Pam got sick, the poor woman has endured over 1,000 of the lamest, most juvenile, moronic, and occasionally inappropriate Dad Jokes ever assembled in one place for the treatment of a cancer patient. Considering her miraculous recovery, I’m thinking that I should at least get Honorable Mention status by the Nobel Committee when they hand out the prize for Medicine this year. This morning’s offering was fairly typical of the genre:

A friend of mine makes Christmas Wreaths for a living. He recently decided to make one out of fresh $100 bills.

He calls it...a wreath of Franklin.

She awarded it with a face-palm emoji...for the thousandth time. Every once in a while she would reply, “You’re just not right”, which in all honesty is a fair observation to make after someone sends you this at 5:30 in the morning...

Have you heard about the new branch of Hip Hop where all the songs are about relationship attachment issues?

Its called Cling Rap.

Her finest moment in all this time was back in one of her darkest periods. She was sick as a dog and hanging on by a thread. I had just sent her three truly horrible Dad Jokes. She paused for quite a while and then sent this awesome text...Don’t you think I’ve suffered enough?

Merry Christmas, Mrs. Cole!!