Jacobson learned about the healing powers of humor by experience. He had been an athlete, in great shape until he contracted rheumatic fever at 22. The fever was followed by a diagnosis of psoriatic arthritis, a severe form in which bones in his spines, knees and ankles either fused or swelled. At the onset of the illness, he relied totally on a wheelchair.

“My first step was literally a humorous one,” writes Jacobson. When the phone rang, he told his mother not to get up and despite his painful feet, dragged himself like Igor, the hunchbacked character from horror films. She was so busy laughing, he was able to beat her to the phone, and the silliness helped lift both their spirits.

Humor had helped their family cope years earlier, after Jacobson’s father died when Jacobson was eight. His classmates made sympathy cards. One said, “Don’t be sad, I would be sad too if my fat dad died,” with the word “fat” crossed out. It was the first laugh his family shared since his father’s death. It was cathartic, says Jacobson.

Now he finds that 10 minutes of laughter from reading a good book or watching a video allows him to get two hours of pain-free sleep. Jacobson says he feels fortunate that his family taught him to use humor, and that their dinnertimes were filled with laughter. While some people are more naturally funny than others, we can all develop our humor to a higher level, says Jacobson.

The most important habit, he says, is one he calls a half habit. No one can change negative thoughts to positive ones all the time, but it isn’t necessary to do it 100 percent of the time to be effective, says Jacobson. His book teaches how to become aware of negative thinking patterns such as all-or-nothing thinking or overgeneralization. It’s also important to choose to see the positive in every situation, says Jacobson.

The next most important habit, he says, is to treat humor as a necessity rather than a luxury. This means making the time to include humor in our daily lives and to improve our understanding of how humor works. Israelis are very aware of this need, says Jacobson. In Israel, he says, they don’t need professional comics, since everyone is a comedian out of the necessity to cope with extreme stress.

Jews have advantages when it comes to humor, says Jacobson. Those who speak some Yiddish can enjoy the fact that the language itself is funny, such as when comedian Mike Meyers talks about being verklempt (choked with emotion).

Jews also benefit from how we argue and bargain with God, and don’t consider it sacrilegious to jest with God, says Jacobson. Having developed a “Humor Spirit Theory,” he explains that ruach, Hebrew for spirit, is literally breath.  “Humor breathes energy into your spirit,” he writes.

“As soon as the humor spirit takes over, you go into the creative mode,” writes Jacobson. Humor helped him deal with the letdown following his triumphant crossing of the finish line of the 115 mile 1990 El Tour de Tucson, 10 years after his diagnosis. The next year he wanted to repeat that feat, but his knees and back couldn’t endure even a mile ride on a bike.

After brainstorming silly ideas like hooking onto another bike with a fishing pole, or being pulled by a giant magnet, he decided to ride his unicycle. He had relied on it in graduate school 10 years earlier to get around the Arizona State University campus, when his partially fused and swollen ankles could not support walking. In 1991 he was able to meet his goal of riding his unicycle 50 miles in the El Tour de Tucson. He kept himself going by smiling as he imagined telling a grandson about the experience years later.

Humor has helped others meet even greater challenges, says Jacobson. Victor Frankl, a psychiatrist, Holocaust survivor, and author of Man’s Search for Meaning, noted that in the concentration camps, humor was a weapon in the fight for self-preservation.

Try diffusing conflicts with humor, says Jacobson. Jewish comics have made good use of self-effacing humor rather than the kind of hurtful humor that makes jokes at another’s expense.

There are times when humor is inappropriate, such as when giving very bad news. But with a patient Jacobson knows well, making a comment about his or her condition in a funny way can show that he cares, he says. 

Humor can even be used to diffuse tension when confronting offensive jokes. If people resort to bad jokes because they don’t know how to do better, then Jacobson’s book makes a contribution in teaching everyone how to be a little bit funnier.

“The 7 1/2 Habits of Highly Humorous People” is available at Barnes & Noble, Amazon.com, the University Medical Center gift shop (1501 N. Campbell Ave.), and will be available at Jacobson’s lecture and book signing on Thursday, Nov. 15, 4:30-5:30 p.m. at the University of Arizona bookstore (1209 E. University Blvd.).

For more information, call 982-6868 or go to humorhorizons.com.

Deborah Mayaan is a writer and energy work and flower essence practitioner based in Tucson. www. deborahmayaan.com.

 People around Tucson are noticing a significant change in my appearance, thanks to some surgery. But it is the road to that surgery that is the most significant part of the story.

The surgery was to remove a “benign” ovarian cyst (think bag of fluid) from my abdomen that was estimated to be about 60 pounds. The pre-surgical nurse said I looked 14 months pregnant; my surgeon quipped “with twins.”

They estimated that I had been growing the “twins” for as long as 15 years — about the length of time I had been struggling to lose the extra weight without success.

What took them so long, you might ask, and I would answer that my doctors never did find the cyst.

For many years, thanks to health insurance changes, my “female” exams were done by my family internist, the last one of whom was a woman. They all missed it, encouraging me to exercise harder and diet more strictly.

Well, these past six months I had been Jazzercising twice a day Sunday through Friday, down to about 800 calories of “protein and leafy” and I was still gaining weight. Finally a friend said, “You know, your belly looks like a lot like so-and-so’s, and she had an ovarian cyst.” That was all it took.

The next day, armed with data and photos from the Internet, I insisted on a meeting with my internist to discuss the possibility that I had a cyst. She agreed to a meeting the following day. After an hour of discussion about why I thought I “might” have a cyst, she agreed to prescribe an ultrasound, asking when I might want it. I replied “today or tomorrow.” She looked at me and, deciding I was serious, got her assistant to schedule it with a nearby facility. While that was happening she examined my abdomen and decided it was rather rigid, almost as if I were pregnant.

I went for the ultrasound and the technician there was amazed at a) my seemingly pregnant rather than obese appearance and b) the sheer size of the cyst (30 centimeters wide, from sternum to pelvis, full depth — big). The doctor there said that a CT scan was not needed; the cyst needed to be removed — and soon. I called my doctor’s office and left word that I wanted to schedule the surgery fairly quickly — I had a short trip planned the following week and wanted the surgery as soon after that as it could be arranged (High Holy Days and all). My doctor referred me to a gyn/surgeon and the appointment was made for a Monday, a few days after my trip. The surgeon prioritized my surgery right after his cancer patients.

The surgery went well and I was released from the hospital two days later. Four weeks later I was given the OK to “ease back into everything and enjoy my new shape.” I confess I am enjoying seeing people’s reactions to my new size. And I love being able to move fully at Jazzercise.

The bottom line is that one must advocate for oneself. Sometimes there is a reason for a person’s inability to lose weight, above and beyond the simple rules of eating right and exercising. Once the surgery was scheduled a number of people said to me “I wondered if you had a cyst” or “I was wondering why you weren’t doing anything about the cyst.” I wish one of those people would have said something to me. Plenty of other people told me to go to Overeaters Anonymous or WeightWatchers or simply to cut down the calories. In fact, one woman, after hearing the details two days before the surgery, went out to lunch with me and others, looked at my plate and remarked, “Oh, you eat modestly.”

Standing outside the JCC recently, someone asked me, “So Shafir, what’s the spiritual message behind this cyst?” I thought for just a moment and two lessons emerged — “fattism” is just another form of prejudice and people need to be encouraged to be their own health care advocates.

I still have a bit of post-surgical swelling and as with a woman after childbirth, my abdomen needs to be toned, but those details seem minor now. I am looking for a new internist, however.

Shafir Lobb is rabbi of Congregation Ner Tamid.