Comedian cracks colon cancer taboos
March 29, 2000

By Lori Carlson Sun  Newspapers

Brenda Elsagher wants  people to be able to say "rectum" without feeling uncomfortable.

At the start of each speech she gives about her fight against  colorectal cancer, she asks audience members to turn to each other  and say the word three times.

"It gets it out of the way and then we can move on," said  Elsagher, of Burnsville.

"It's a shy area," she said. "Why is that, do you think? We have  a much harder time talking about rectums than arms."

Since Elsagher, 43, had her colon removed in 1995 she has added  "comedian," "Twin Cities' funniest person" and "public speaker" to  her list of titles. Another title she claims is business owner of  a hair salon in Bloomington.

"All my life I felt like I'm going to be talking about something  important," she said. "But I never thought it would be about being  rectum-free."

With an acute sense of humor and a vivacious attitude, Elsagher  has made her family, her friends, her audiences (and herself) feel  more comfortable talking about colon cancer.

Elsagher (nee Elsen), who grew up in Bloomington and graduated  from the Academy of Holy Angels in Richfield, reached her goal of  becoming a comedian by the age of 40 just in time, soon after her  surgery. She performed at clubs throughout the Twin Cities, most  notably Acme Comedy Club in Minneapolis.

In 1996 she was chosen from 150 amateur comedians as "the Twin  Cities' Funniest Person." The audience's response was overwhelming,  she said.

"I think it's because everyone's so relieved it's not happening  to them at the moment," she said. "It took me a year before I would  joke about my cancer."

Once she started, she couldn't stop.

Her public speaking career began by accident.

After a Sun-Current reporter wrote a feature about her in 1996,  the reporter asked if she had done any public speaking.

"I don't know why, but I said, 'Yes,'" Elsagher said. "At that  point I hadn't done any."

The reporter asked her the name of her speech, and the first  thing that came out was "Humor in Crisis." The reporter put her  telephone number in the paper, and the following week someone called  Elsagher to speak at a church gathering.

"And then I had to make up a speech," she said. "And I have not  shut up since."

She married her Egyptian husband, Bahgat Elsagher, 11 years ago.  They have two children, Hannah, 7, and John, 10. Their relationship  "is fodder for material," she said.

Bahgat said he met his future wife when his brother responded to  a personals ad Elsagher had placed in the Twin Cities Reader. His  brother asked Bahgat to come along to ease the pressure of the date.

"At the end of the night Brenda said, 'I'm not really interested  in your brother, but if you're interested, maybe we can talk,'"  Bahgat said with a laugh. "And that was the start."

Elsagher has brought her husband's "cornball humor" and  sometimes-silly behavior to her comedy routine.

"One of the reasons I'm attracted to Bahgat is because he makes  me laugh every day," she said.

Elsagher is the kind of person who keeps everyone laughing, but  she has developed a more serious side since being diagnosed with  cancer. She said she wants both sides to come through in her talks.

Elsagher said NBC's Katie Couric's live colonoscopy on TV earlier  this month helped the cause, but "people are still taking it too  lightly." Couric's husband died of cancer in January 1998 at age 42.

Elsagher said she wants people to realize how relatively simple  the test to detect colon cancer can be compared to the pain of a  life-threatening disease.

"Living with a colostomy day to day has a lot more potential for  embarrassment than having one colonoscopy test every couple of  years," she said.

The worst part of the test, she said, is not the test itself, but  the preparation the night before. Patients have to drink a bitter  liquid called "Go Lightly," which Elsagher said is "an oxymoron."  But the test itself, she said, takes about 15 minutes.

The pain of cancer has taught her a lot about living. An uncle,  who was diagnosed a year to the day after her own discovery, died  three months later. His colon cancer had spread too far.

"If there's anything you're thinking about doing, you'd better  start planning for it," she said. "If you ever wish you could tell  someone you love them, call them up and tell them. Why not? What's  that pride about?"

Elsagher said she hopes through her comedy and her inspirational  talks she can reach as many people as possible.

She has already reached many with her wide-open sense of humor.

A while ago she gave a talk for Archbishop Harry Flynn and 400  religious educators.

She told the crowd about her attempts to explain the Catholic  hierarchy to her Moslem husband by using McDonald's terminology.

"All of us Catholics are like hamburgers," she told them. "And  the priests would be cheeseburgers, the bishops would be  Quarterpounders, the archbishop would be the Arch Deluxe, the pope  would be the Big Mac and the golden arches would be the gates of  heaven."

Luckily, Flynn laughed and the others followed after carefully  watching for the archbishop's reaction, she said.

In almost anyone's presence, Elsagher rattles off joke after  joke, seemingly not realizing she's on a roll:

"It's not so bad having a colostomy," she said. "I just can't  find shoes to match my bag."

"My doctor is respected by his peers. They refer to him as 'the  Rear Admiral.'"

And then there are the true stories:

"On the morning of my surgery, the doctor came into the room and  I asked him if it was really a good day for surgery," she said. "And  he said, 'Why?' and I said, 'Because you have those little pieces of  toilet paper stuck to your face.' I was a little bit afraid."

Elsagher is just now feeling sure about her recovery. During the  seven-hour procedure she had her colon, rectum, uterus and a vaginal  wall removed. Later she had two more surgeries, one to remove  hernias and one to clear an infection.

In 1999 she finally was able to stay out of the hospital for a  longer time and to focus on giving talks.

"I feel like my old self now," she said.

Patients can expect a complete recovery five years from the date  the cancer is removed if the cancer was caught soon enough, the  American Cancer Society says.

Now that Elsagher's five-year mark is approaching, she can  channel her boundless energy into helping others.

"I try to take something very serious and make it palatable," she  said. "[Doing comedy routines] is not really my passion anymore. I'd  rather give an hour speech than 10 minutes of comedy."

Elsagher's next talk is set for 7 p.m. Tuesday, April 25, at St.  John's Church in Lakeville, on Holyoke Avenue off Highway 50. The  event is free and sponsored by the American Cancer Society of Dakota  County, Lakeville Women of Today and Xi Alpha chapter of Phi Beta  Psi.

For more information call 651-460-6546 or 952-463-1194.