GOOD FOOD, BAD ENTERTAINMENT AND PHOTOPHOBIA

My weekend visit with my sister, Judy, was as pleasant as I expected it would be.  We got to hang out, dine out, visit, dabble on Facebook and watch a play.  A really bad play.  In fact, we decided that we now share a common memory for future conversations:  The worst play we both have ever seen, we got to see together!

But aside from the crummy play, we had a great time together!

But getting back to the crummy play,  a plethora of problems plagued the production:

First, there were apparently not enough guys who showed up when auditions were held, so most of the male roles were played by females - females wearing men's clothing and sporting fake moustaches and beards.  

Also, the acting was beyond bad.  It was cringe-worthy, except for the lead male role.  He was a talented actor.  The others were not.  Not even close.

Also, it was a musical.  Musicals are great if the performers can sing.  They couldn't.  

Also, tickets were $25 each.  That's with a senior discount.  That's a total of $50 for my senior citizen sister and my senior citizen self.  A lot of good movies can be seen for $50.

Aside from the play, I also learned that my sister is not a big fan of having her picture taken.  But she is a good sport about it and was willing to humor her little brother with a few photos during our visit together.

Judy and I dined out on Friday night at the restaurant of her choosing:  Latitudes in Windsor.

Judy humored her little brother by willingly posing for a few shots.  A set of stairs, a redwood tree and
a recycle dumpster added to the ambiance of the moments.

Judy and I arrive at the 6th Street Playhouse.

After sitting through the play, Crazy For You, Judy and I were crazy ready to leave.

For some reason, Judy liked these final three photos better than all the other ones we took during our weekend together.

SAYING GOODBYE TO CINDY

When the Providence Radiation Oncology Center first opened its doors in 1999, Cindy was part of the original crew.  I arrived about six months later.

This past week, approaching sixteen years since the department began, Cindy retired.

Our department refers to itself as TEAM RAD, based on a sign that a former patient made and gave to us as a gift a few years ago. 

When Cindy announced last month that she would be retiring, each member of TEAM RAD expressed personal feelings about this matter and those feelings have been forever documented in a video we made especially for her. 

Keith, our department director, stands beside our TEAM RAD sign
while he participates in our farewell video for Cindy, which is shown below.

But there is an obvious glitch in this video.  Obvious, but intentional. 

The voices have been switched around among the persons who are speaking.  It actually turned out to be quite funny.  The whole team laughed as they heard other people’s voices coming out of their mouths.

In spite of the laughter, however, the central message of the video was clear.

We will all miss Cindy.

Cindy, Katie and I pose beside one of our treatment machines in July 2008.

Cindy, framed in this photo by humans (me, Katie and Kim), poses for Halloween in 2008.

Cindy Lee joined the team in 2009 when Katie decided it was more important
to populate the earth rather than to operate a linear accelerator.

Halloween came again in 2009.

Last week we had a surprise retirement party for Cindy. Sensing that a camera was aimed at her and sensing that her mascara might be moving, Cindy, standing beside Keith and trying to deal with a 
pesty lump in her throat, looks down instead of up.

Eventually lifting her head, Cindy receives a grade of "C+" in Mascara Management Skills.

Olivia, as well as the rest of the team, gives Cindy a goodbye hug.

Cindy reads her big card.

Some of the signed comments brought smiles and laughter.

The 3-minute video we all made for her was pretty funny.  Click the "play" tab below:

WHEN GRATEFUL PEOPLE ARE ALSO TALENTED

I have the best job in the world!

All day, every day, I am loved and appreciated by cancer patients who are receiving radiation therapy treatments.  Why are they appreciative?  Because they know everyone on our team is dedicated to curing their cancer and saving their lives.

Quite often when patients finish their final treatment, they bring a gift to show their gratitude. We receive boxes of chocolates, gift cards to Dutch Brothers, food baskets and various kinds of snacks.

One year we received a cake and I was part of the cake decoration.

Today a lady who finished her treatments a few weeks ago came back into our clinic.  On the day she completed her last treatment she told me that she would like to paint a picture of me as a gift.  

Well, she started and finished her painting yesterday and brought it into our clinic today: A beautiful, hand-painted 16x20-inch acrylic on canvas.

There are some definite pluses to my job!

Terri gave me permission to take her picture and to post it online.

An amazing gift!

A pretty good likeness.

THIRTY-EIGHT YEARS, TEN MONTHS AND TWENTY-EIGHT DAYS

I didn't know until a couple of months ago that my oldest daughter has long been planning to make a special trip to Brookings at a specific time in her life.  She asked if she could spend the night with Debra and me on her way there. 

Friday night she stayed with us.  Saturday morning she left for the coast.  Yesterday, Sunday, she was in Brookings standing beside her mother's grave.

She has had it in her mind for some time to visit her mom's grave when she reached the approximate age that her mother was when she died.

Her mother lived for thirty-eight years, ten months and twenty-eight days.  

Yesterday, coincidentally, our oldest daughter reached that exact same age.  

And she visited her mom.  

It was Mother's Day. 

The day the firstborn arrived.

The mom with her two-week-old daughter.

Five-month-old sitting in her bedroom on her mother's lap.

Sitting on the front porch in Stockton, California.

Sitting on the steps of the Chinese Bible College in San Francisco.

First Christmas at six months.

Meal time, using the same high chair her mom used when she was a baby.

Eight-month-old rocking with mom.

Sitting at a professional portrait studio.

Snuggling.

Nine-month-old with mom in the back yard of their Stockton home.

Sitting on the same front porch in Stockton, 
about five months after the previous front porch photo was taken.

One-and-a-half-year-old with her mother in their Carmichael, California home.

Closing in on three years old.

Three-year-old casting a curious glance in her mom's direction.

Two years shy of being a teenager, four years shy of being without a mother.

Spending time with Debra and me on her way to Brookings.

Dad and daughter.

Learning to love Koda.

Learning to pant like Koda.

Heading for the coast to visit her mom.