Maybe YOU can’t joke about breast cancer, but I can and will, all unapologetically. It boils down to this – my cancer, my choice on which coping mechanism to pull out of my bag of tricks. Humor (the more inappropriate the better) has never failed me. It’s tried and true and has carried me through some of the darkest times of my life.
Breast cancer is no exception.
I would love to say I was shocked by my diagnosis delivered on May 1st, 2025, but I wasn’t. Scared, worried, and the appropriate amount of stressed, maybe. But not shocked. I am the daughter of a breast cancer survivor and surrounded by a sea of friends who have waded in the breast cancer waters at different depths. The truth is that I knew the second I felt the lump in my left breast and double knew when the radiologist came in following my mammogram to tell me there was also a mass in my right breast. It didn’t take a rocket scientist (just a radiologist) to figure out that two pretty much symmetrical lumps of “high suspicion” (one in each breast), would be officially anointed as cancer in the coming days.
My mom and I do not share the BRCA gene, but there are so many other factors that I knew and was already planning my bilateral mastectomy in my head.
From the beginning I led with humor and really only cried twice. The first was when my best friend came over even though I told her not to, on D Day (that’s diagnosis day) and hugged me while I was on the toilet trying to pee alone. The other was when literal strangers on the internet who read my daily rants on Instagram sent me the kindest, most uplifting messages dripping with love and support.
The inappropriate jokes came almost immediately. My first memory of letting them into the wild was while filling out the paperwork for my biopsy with my best friend sitting next to me (she’s a humor coper too). While thumbing through the copious amounts of paperwork listing everything that could possibly go wrong, I turned to her and with the deadest of dead pan delivery said, “well, at least there are no risks.” That was quickly followed by her skimming over a section about risks surrounding implants and saying, “at least you don’t have implants,” to which I quickly replied, “Not YET” Our combined nervous energy quickly morphed into raucous laughter and there was no turning back. The humor was now released and out in the universe.
From there it was only going to get wilder.
- Every time someone hugged me and clearly didn’t want to let go, I would say some version of, “Are you hugging me extra hard because I have cancer?”
- If my kids (who are also humor magnets) don’t do something I asked, I might say, “You’re not allowed to say no to someone with cancer”.
- The doorbell rang every day revealing a mix of food, flowers, and gifts. And when that chime sound hit, I would yell, “Cancer presents!”
- As my sweet, gentle, introverted husband would carefully begin to ask my surgical oncologist questions, I would say things like, “He really just wants to know when we can have sex again.”
- If a friend called to complain about anything on our usual list of gripes, I would quip, “At least it’s not cancer!”
- I asked if I could select a song to play while rolled into my mastectomy/reconstruction, you know, to set the tone. My surgeon said absolutely and as I was rolled in, Rack City by Tyga blasted from the OR’s Alexa and it just felt right. Because there was no better mood lifter than, “10s, 10s, 10s, 20s on your titties, bitch.”
- If a friend offered something simple – to drive me somewhere, bring me food, or come hangout – I would ask, “because I have cancer?”
- Then after surgery the standard response to anything was, “Jesus, I just beat breast cancer!”
- I even named my left nipple. She was really struggling after surgery due to the inevitable necrosis that can happen, so to cope I referred to her as “Lisa Left Nip Lopes”. (That’s an old school TLC reference to those who didn’t get it.)
- When my dining room table was filled with more flowers than a funeral home, I joked that it was like I was attending my own shiva but was alive to enjoy it.
I took everything about my cancer seriously in terms of logistics and decisions. However, the hooe that is cancer was not going to rob me of my spirit. I felt empowered by taking its paralyzing seriousness away and instead roasting it comedically. It may not be everyone’s cup of tea and that’s okay. It was mine and still is. It kept me sane during a really traumatic diagnosis and surgery. Levity and unseriousness replaced heaviness and gloom. Did it make some people uncomfortable? Absolutely. It also was not my job to make people comfortable; I was the one with the goddamned cancer.
Questionable graphic tees, knick knacks emblazoned with boobs, adult coloring books filled with all the best cuss words, and other similar items were on every surface of my body and house. Some mistook my humor for denial because they couldn’t process how I could be so flippant with something like breast cancer. And I’m like, hello…have you met me?! I am kind but blunt, honest but funny, and there is nothing fake about me….except my boobs (oh and the syringe of Dysport in my forehead and the one of lip filler too).
Just know this. If you want to curl into the fetal position when you receive bad news, it’s ok. If a rage room and loud music is more your thing, go for it. But for me laughter is where it’s at and I’ve never regretted cackling so hard my abs (or where my abs used to be) hurt. It was my way of also disarming people so they didn’t feel the need to be all serious with me, because yuck.
Cancer sucks. It’s ravages you emotionally and physically. Our only job is to face it the best we can and try to survive all of it. Besides, I always wanted perky new boobs and at least this way, insurance paid for it. My insurance titties as I like to call them.
All joking aside, please be vigilant about breast screenings and self-exams. Those coupled with early detection saved my life and also saved me from chemo and radiation because it was caught so early. Be loud, feisty, and always advocate for yourself. It’s what you deserve.
Rachel Sobel is an award-winning writer, author, speaker, do-over wife and mom to two girls. She is also the creator and cohost of the lifestyle podcast, Friends Without Benefits alongside the Miami Heat in-arena host, Uptown Dale. Rachel has appeared on NPR, The Doctors, The Tamron Hall Show and The Kelly Clarkson Show (Rachel is still not fully recovered from Kelly calling her hilarious on national television). Her Instagram account, @whineandcheezits has garnered more than 100K followers and has become a community of women who rely on each other to commiserate about life, marriage, kids and now more than ever, middle age!
