Healthy Humor IS Medicine
“Laughter is the shortest distance between two people.” – Victor Borge
There are moments in our work when laughter feels almost out of place. Patients are waiting. The inbox is ever filling. The story in front of you is heavy, complex, unfinished. And yet, somewhere between visits, or sometimes right in the middle of one, something human breaks through. A shared smile. A gentle joke. A moment of levity that does not diminish the seriousness of our work, but somehow makes it more bearable, more connected, more alive. In those moments, laughter becomes less about escape and more about presence.
Many of us were introduced to medicine’s darker humor, often called gallows humor, through The House of God, a book still read today, though perhaps now more as a mirror than a model. Its sharp, dark, and often irreverent humor served a purpose. In the face of suffering and long hours, it created belonging and gave voice to what could not easily be said. But over time, that same humor can become distancing. A reflex. A shield. It can protect us not just from pain, but from meaning. If we are not careful, it slowly erodes the caring and compassion that drew us to this work.
On the other end is a different kind of misalignment, not dark, but disconnected in its own way. We have all been around it: the constant joking, the forced lightness, the humor that does not quite fit the moment. The colleague who keeps things “fun” no matter the context, who reaches for a joke when what is needed is presence. At times, it can feel like a kind of emotional bypassing, where difficulty is quickly covered rather than acknowledged. Like gallows humor, it serves a purpose, often easing tension or signaling belonging. But when it misses the moment, it can create distance rather than connection, leaving others feeling unseen or even alone in what they are carrying.
Healthy humor lives between these poles. It does not deny reality, and it does not deflect from it. It stays close to the truth while softening its edges. It is also relational. It signals safety, builds trust, and strengthens teams. I was reminded of this recently at the end of a seemingly never-ending clinic, with notes unfinished, inbox ever filling, and frustration settling in, when a colleague walked by and said, “Remember, the sign chart button is your friend.” We both chuckled, recognizing both the truth of the statement and the absurdity of documentation demands. I logged off my computer, and we walked out together, feeling both a bit lighter and more connected.
This week, consider your relationship with humor. Where might it be serving as a shield, keeping you at a distance? Where might it be forced, asking you or others to feel something that is not true? And where might there be space for a different kind of laughter, one that is grounded, shared, and real? Perhaps that begins with a small step: reaching out to your PeerRx partner or a trusted colleague at the end of a long day, not to fix anything, but simply to share a moment of lightness. In work that asks so much of us, healthy humor is not a distraction from meaning. It is one of the ways we sustain it. Everyone needs a good laugh. No one should laugh alone.