Prostate cancer isn’t exactly a barrel of laughs, but I’ve decided to smuggle some humor into the situation anyway. It’s not denial—think of it more as creative coping. For my own sanity, yes—but perhaps more importantly, for my wife’s. Because if I didn’t crack the occasional joke about PSA scores and radiation zaps, she might be tempted to zap me herself. With a frying pan.

Humor doesn’t cure cancer, but it does take the edge off—like a slightly inappropriate anesthetic for the soul. So I keep laughing, she keeps rolling her eyes, and together we muddle through, one groan-worthy pun at a time.