Having read several books on coping with illness and hospitalisation, I approached Lasse Toft’s 70 Things You Can Do While Being Hospitalized with interest in how it might contribute to this genre. The book presents itself as a humorous survival guide for hospital patients, offering seventy unconventional activities to combat boredom, fear, and feelings of helplessness during extended medical stays. What immediately distinguishes this work from more conventional self-help books is its unapologetically dark comedic approach, framed by the author’s personal experience of a six-month hospitalisation following a serious injury.
The book’s foundation lies in Toft’s assertion that “FEAR CAN BE A PRISON. HOPE AND HUMOR IS YOUR KEY OUT,” a thesis that informs every suggestion. This perspective aligns broadly with psychological research demonstrating the benefits of humour as a coping mechanism, though Toft’s application is decidedly more irreverent than clinical. His proposals range from mildly mischievous (creating a restaurant atmosphere in the hospital canteen) to frankly macabre (faking one’s death to test staff reactions). The author’s investment in these ideas becomes clear through frequent footnotes recounting his own hospital experiences, lending authenticity even to the most outlandish suggestions.
Compared to more traditional books on illness coping strategies, Toft’s approach is notably lacking in structured psychological frameworks or evidence-based techniques. Where other works might offer mindfulness exercises or cognitive behavioural techniques, Toft proposes activities such as establishing a betting pool on fellow patients’ survival odds or dressing up as the Grim Reaper to prank other patients. This difference isn’t necessarily a weakness but rather a distinct philosophical approach. The book operates on the premise that radical humour and absurdity can serve as psychological tools when conventional methods feel inaccessible or insufficient.
The practicality of Toft’s suggestions varies significantly. Some ideas demonstrate genuine insight into the hospital experience. His proposal to celebrate the fastest-responding nurse with mock awards plays on the very real patient anxiety around call button response times while fostering positive staff interactions. Similarly, his suggestion to personalise one’s space with decorations speaks to the well-documented psychological benefits of environmental customisation in healthcare settings. These more viable ideas show Toft’s understanding of patient needs for control and dignity.
However, many proposals cross into pure fantasy or dark comedy. Suggestions like sneaking into the hospital morgue for solitude or selling hospital equipment on the black market are not meant as serious advice. While these outrageous ideas contribute to the book’s comedic value, they may frustrate readers seeking practical coping strategies. The humour also occasionally borders on being offensive, such as the proposed wheelchair decorating contest, which could be seen as mocking disability. This edginess will likely divide readers based on personal taste and sensitivity.
Where the book succeeds is in its unflinching acknowledgement of the psychological challenges of hospital life. Toft’s description of interminable Saturday evenings feeling “trapped and as if my life was over” perfectly captures a specific form of hospital despair familiar to many long-term patients. His proposed responses to the ubiquitous “How are we feeling today?” question, while exaggerated, articulate the frustration many patients feel with small talk in medical settings. These moments demonstrate the book’s value as a form of cathartic validation, even when the specific suggestions aren’t actionable.
The book’s structure is straightforward, presenting each idea with brief instructions and often including personal anecdotes. This format makes for easy, non-demanding reading suitable for someone with limited energy. The prose is conversational and laced with dark humour, as when Toft describes his “near-death experience with almost bursting bladder and intestines” while waiting for bathroom assistance. This tone fosters a sense of camaraderie by allowing readers to share similar experiences, although it may alienate those who prefer more clinical or serious approaches.
Compared to other illness coping literature, Toft’s work stands out for its raw authenticity and refusal to sugarcoat the hospital experience. Where many books focus on positive thinking or spiritual growth, 70 Things acknowledges the boredom, anger, and absurdity of prolonged hospitalisation. This makes it potentially valuable for readers resistant to more earnest self-help approaches. The book’s emphasis on active rather than passive coping is another strength, encouraging patients to see themselves as agents rather than victims, even if only in playful or symbolic ways.
However, the book has significant limitations. The lack of psychological grounding means readers won’t find evidence-based techniques for managing anxiety or depression. The humour, while potentially therapeutic for some, could exacerbate negative feelings in others. There’s also minimal consideration of how suggestions might impact fellow patients or medical staff, with some ideas potentially creating real problems in a healthcare setting.
The book’s ultimate value depends mainly on the reader’s expectations. Those seeking practical coping strategies may be disappointed, while those open to dark humour as a form of psychological relief may find it uniquely helpful. Toft’s perspective as a patient who has endured long-term hospitalisation gives the work an authenticity that more polished self-help books sometimes lack. His closing reflection — that “focusing on something other than your illness and being good-natured to other people is key to healing”-reveals a more conventional wisdom underlying the edgy humour.
70 Things You Can Do While Being Hospitalized fills a specific niche in illness literature. It won’t replace more comprehensive psychological guides. Still, it offers something many lack: an honest, darkly funny acknowledgement of how dehumanising hospitalisation can feel, and a rebellious toolkit for reclaiming some sense of self. For the right reader at the right time, this approach may prove more therapeutic than dozens of more respectable coping guides. The book’s most significant achievement may be in demonstrating that sometimes laughter, even at inappropriate things, can indeed be powerful medicine.
In the final assessment, this book will likely resonate strongly with some readers and alienate others. Its value lies not in universal applicability but in its unique voice and perspective. As one of the few books addressing the mundane horrors of hospitalisation with humour rather than solemnity, it deserves recognition for tackling an underexplored aspect of illness experience. While not without flaws, it offers a form of companionship and catharsis that more conventional books often fail to provide. For patients struggling with the mental toll of hospitalisation who appreciate dark humour, it may prove an unexpectedly valuable resource.
Review by Amar for Featured Books
