How Conan O’Brien Helps Me Fight Cancer

Back while I worked a “real job”, Sunday nights were always particularly unsettling. Especially, during winter: the buildup of dark, unforgiving nights would wear down my spirits and there was too much time to think up and dwell on imaginary fears. Late at night, I’d find my eyes glued to the ceiling— scared, helpless and completely at the mercy of an evil force that is The Sunday Scaries. (Kori’s name choice, for the record. She swears it’s a thing.)

Once the diagnosis came along, my world and lifestyle were blown to shreds like a scene out of a Michael Bay movie. I committed to full time healing at home, trying whatever I could to turn my health around. And no longer facing the same demands of my traditional workdays, I thought that maybe the pressure of Sunday evenings would simmer down a bit— chalk it up to a rare win from cancer.

But that hasn’t played out quite as expected. Thing is, life as a grownup is hard. And life with cancer is very hard. There may no longer be a draining commute, or bosses and clients to report to, but the stress gets made up for in every way you might imagine and many, many more.

Fortunately, someone along the way convinced Conan O’Brien to try his hand at podcasting.

Keep in mind that as a cancer fighter, I’ve racked up more than my share of miles exploring the depths of escapism entertainment. In these modern times, we’re blessed with an endless list of sports, movies, streaming TV, Bravo… You name it and I’ve either tried it, or pulled out my phone (but while still sort of paying attention) next to Kori while she’s tried it. And the sad reality is that for all the options at our disposal, it’s actually pretty hard to find content that doesn’t leave you feeling dumber afterwards (reality TV), riled up (politics), or anxious/depressed (the news).

On the other hand, Conan Needs A Friend has consistently been there for me — while I’m walking laps, resting, or feeling completely lost and isolated at my apartment, weighed down by the gravity of when my next scans are and what’s at stake if something goes wrong.

Conan is legitimately funny on demand; he can’t help himself, and you get to witness his talent in real time as he improvs and riffs away with his assistant, Sona, the show’s producer, Matt Gourley, and eventually a guest— one among an elevated class of celebrity, the type you gain access to as a comedic legend.

The trio have developed amazing chemistry through a combo of feisty but good-natured ribbing, laugh out loud-worthy jokes and never taking themselves too seriously. And then there’s the ads. No one does ads like Conan; few have the comedic chops even if they tried. Normally, a part of other shows where I’d instinctively flinch for the fast forward button, Conan doesn’t let his listeners suffer through the usual, cram it down your throat sponsor-provided scripts. Instead, he takes you for a ride, loosely meandering off on quirky comedic tangents that still get the gist of the sale across but in an infinitely more enjoyable way. For most content providers, taking liberties with the corporate hand that feeds you would be taboo- way too risky- but Conan’s got both the status and ability to back it up.

For all he’s achieved, it wasn’t that long ago that Conan’s own world took a sharp and unpredictable turn back at NBC. Maybe it’s because I relate to having everything you know destroyed in the blink of an eye. Or because I admire his resiliency and the way he handled himself publicly afterwards. Maybe, it’s how I’ve grown to appreciate the trigger of feeling immediately lighter after seeing the Conan icon refreshed in my new episodes list. Or maybe, it’s just because there’s real value in having others help make everything seem ok - even if just for a little while - in spite of society measuring success mainly in terms of fame and fortune.

Well, whatever is, Conan, Sona and Gourley have created something special that I can count on each week along my quest for wellness. They’ve invented Monday’s antidote to my Sunday Scaries, and for that I’m grateful.

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