Just when you think it can’t get any worse, it gets worse

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Gilda Radner was one of my favorite comedians. She was an incredibly gifted woman whose zaniness was captivating.

When she was diagnosed with ovarian cancer, she kept asking the question we all ask when something bad happens.

‘‘Why me?’’

Her humor took her through her treatments, but unfortunately she didn’t make it. However, she wrote a book, ‘‘It’s Always Something,’’ and she was right. It seems that when things are going along on an even keel something happens, and it isn’t always good.

In the last two years, I have gotten divorced, had my hip replaced, my daughter has been diagnosed with non-Hodgkin’s lymphoma and now my cat has the beginning stage of cardiomyopathy with a heart murmur. He also has acne under his chin and some periodontal problems.

Now I realize my daughter definitely heads the list, but we have some of that under control because one of you, dear readers, gave me the name of a wonderful physician at the Dana-Farber Cancer Institute in Boston.

But can we get a break here?

Who could imagine that last week I would be taking my cat to a cat cardiologist for, believe it or not, a CT (cat) scan.

Thank God for humor! In the midst of despair, we can sometimes get a few giggles.

However, I’m ready for the light at the end of the tunnel. I know I’m blessed in many ways, so I’m not ready to dig a hole in my back yard and get in.

But who could imagine that in one day my pet pal could end up with all these problems? He is the most wonderful cat and the best little companion in the world. We spend a lot of time together, and he has made me laugh often.

Now I feel I did when I first had my children, peeking into the crib trying to make sure they were breathing. You keep watching for that tummy to go up and down, and sometimes they’re so still you shake them just a little so they stir. Well, I’m doing the same thing with the cat. The poor thing is going to crack up from me trying to see if he’s okay. He’ll probably have to be put on a sedative to be able to tolerate his overly concerned owner.

Every morning he gets half a pill ground up in his food and twice a day a salve rubbed into his ear. I clean his chin with acne pads and have a gel for his gums. Thank God he doesn’t wear diapers.

One thing is for sure: I will never die of boredom, but I would like a year or two of just coasting. If it is ‘‘always something’’ I hope something goes someplace else!

Author, humorist, PBS star and Fortune 500 trainer Loretta LaRoche lives in Plymouth. To share your pet peeves, questions or comments, write to The Humor Potential, 50 Court St., Plymouth 02360, send e-mail to This e-mail address is being protected from spam bots, you need JavaScript enabled to view it , visit the Web site at www.stressed.com, or call toll-free 800-99-TADAH (82324).

By LORETTA LaROCHE

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