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Perhaps it was Carol O'Flaherty's unusual entry into the world that set her on a unique course. Pronounced dead by the attending obstetrician, she astonished a student nurse when she started to cry on the way to the morgue. Today, she jokes that she already has a copy of her death certificate – timed just prior to her birth certificate! This ability to find humor in difficult and tragic circumstances is the basis of O'Flaherty's work. As a nurse humorist, she travels throughout the United States speaking to groups of nurses, corporate executives, community agencies, women's organizations, and others about the proven benefits of laughter. "Therapeutic humorists are not comedians or joke-tellers," she explains. "We are story-tellers, and our message is based on caring and empathy. We try to keep things positive, never evoke laughter at someone else's expense, and you won't hear any four-letter words from us." Gallows HumorO'Flaherty's career path evolved from a blend of natural talent – she was voted "Most Comical" by her high school class – and happenstance. She first used humor on the job in 1977 when, as a nursing supervisor at a hospital in Boston, Massachusetts, she was responsible for conducting mandatory training sessions in infection control. "There's not a nurse alive who wants to go to those inservices, so I started to make them funny," she says. Armed with a bag of props, which contained bars of soap shaped like bugs and outlandish precaution costumes consisting of gigantic rubber gloves, boots, and a huge diving helmet, and singing creative songs about microorganisms, like "Sal Monella," she blended entertainment with a serious message. Some staff members caught the show two or three times because, as O'Flaherty explains, "they just needed a good laugh." Childhood memories provide O'Flaherty with rich fodder for her presentations. Her Catholic elementary school, she recalls, had a rule stating that girls were not allowed to play on the rope swing during recess "because they wear dresses." So, in a burst of logic, little Carol removed her dress. Later that day, her parents received a telephone call, and she found herself among the select few who have been expelled from kindergarten. However, the bulk of O'Flaherty's material draws on her more than two decades of clinical nursing experience. Her repertoire includes numerous episodes from her days as a nursing student at St. Elizabeth's Hospital in Brighton, Massachusetts, where rigid rules – nursing students were not allowed to use the elevators and daily mass was mandatory – and long hours of floor duty provided ample opportunities for mischief. O'Flaherty can bring down the house with an anecdote about her role as a neighborhood nurse. In the early 1980s, she was asked by local parents to discuss the birds and the bees with their teenage sons. A mother of two boys herself, she dutifully agreed, and covered all the pertinent topics, including the protective benefits of wearing a condom – "putting the helmet on the little soldier," as she described it. One night, years later, she received a phone call from an anxious young man who asked, "Mrs. O'Flaherty? How many days after her period can a girl get pregnant?" She did not miss a beat. "Andrew," she said, "it doesn't sound to me like the helmet is on the little soldier …" As one might guess, O'Flaherty's special love is speaking to nursing groups. Nurses seldom feel free to discuss the graphic details of their work with their families, so when they get together, gallows humor often emerges as a way to release stress. "For years we were told that this type of humor was inappropriate and unprofessional," says O'Flaherty. "Quite frankly, it is appropriate as long as it doesn't reach the ears of the patients and is kept between colleagues." She tells of hastily preparing the body of a patient who had died one particularly hectic morning and of "the devil of a time" she had inserting his apparently ill-fitting dentures. Later, after the breakfast trays arrived, she suffered a horrifying moment of realization when the patient in the next bed complained that he could not find his teeth. The audience always roars as she describes dashing to the morgue, scouring the dentures with antibacterial soap, and then appearing quite the heroine for finding the missing "choppers." A Career in LaughterAt present, there is no training program or certification for therapeutic humorists. However, World Laughter Tour, an Ohio-based company dedicated to promoting health and peace on a global scale through laughter, has developed a workshop that leads to a credential as a Certified Laughter Leader (CLL). The CLL method is based on the theory that the physical experience of laughter stimulates the immune system. Using a combination of yoga and forced laughter, it is based upon research that shows laughter to be equally beneficial whether it is genuine or faked. (O'Flaherty holds the CLL credential, but not all CLLs are therapeutic humorists.) O'Flaherty has earned a reputation that allows her to be selective about where she speaks. During the slow summer and Christmas holiday seasons, she picks up a few shifts of clinical work, not only to keep her skills current, but because she truly loves hands-on nursing. The rest of the year, she is dedicated to spreading the word to audiences from all walks of life: finding the humor in everyday situations is good for you.
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