A Gig to Remember

Somewhere along the way of my 36 radiation sessions, I mentioned that I was a professional juggler to one of the nurses or technicians. I forget who or when or where. But the word got around through the rest of the staff. And staff members would come up to me and share juggling stories, which was really quite nice.

(Among other things, it seems there is an ex-patient -- fully cured of her cancer now -- who comes to the facility every year on the day before they close for the Christmas break. She sits in the waiting room and plays the accordion for an hour or so and then leaves. And she's been doing this for 10 years or more. One year, she came and promised the staff that the next year she would come back and play the accordion and juggle -- without the accordion, of course. Next year, she came back and apologized for not having mastered the juggling bit. Said she was getting oh-so-close. Said the same thing the following year. I want to talk with this lady and help get her pattern going!!)

Anyway, Deb and I handed out a few "Randini the Remarkable" business cards which directed staff members to our website, which in turn took them to my uploaded DVD. (If you're interested in watching the DVD and have a high-speed internet link, just go to: http://www.toucanenterprises.com/ and follow the prompts. It's really a good 6-minute show! And I'll wait here for you if you'd like to head over there now. Up to you... Back again? Great! Here's the story about the Gig to Remember.)

As reported in previous postings, Deb and I have been at times overwhelmed with the caring and positive attitude of the staff at the radiation facility. You may recall they were once set to drive over to Chester County Hospital to retrieve me, as we couldn't find a doctor at the hospital to sign a release form to allow me to get off to my radiation treatment. On another occasion, our schedule at the chemo center looked as if we would not be able to get to the radiation center until after they were scheduled to close, and they said, "Just get here whenever you can. We'll be here for you."

And serendipity had set up the perfect occasion for me to say "Thank you for all you've done for me!" Since my two next-to-last radiation treatments were scheduled for late in the day (to follow immediately after the chemo sessions), there would be few if any patients waiting for treatment, and the staff had little to do but catch up on some paperwork. So I told a few staff members on Thursday that I would return on Friday with juggling props and put on a bit of a show for any staff that were available.

I was hoping for 4 or 5 staff members for an audience, but word had gotten around through the entire facility, and everyone showed up! They closed down the telephone switchboard and put all incoming calls through to the answering machine. Must have been over a dozen people -- several of whom I had never seen before. Several folks showed up a bit early, and looking anxious, asked if they had missed the show. And were visibly relieved to hear that we hadn't started yet. And they extracted a promise from me that I wouldn't start until they returned.

And, although I hadn't seen my radiology doc in the facility for several days, he was there in the audience too! Yay!!

Before I started the act, I explained that anything that I dropped could be blamed on the chemo treatment that I had just completed. And all these lovely radiology people seemed comfortable with that. Couldn't blame them! And the notification had some meaning to it: my hands were shaking from the chemo and my brain was a bit foggy, and I wasn't that sure how ready I was to perform...

And sure enough, halfway through my four-ball routine, I dropped. And a chorus of staff members all called out -- in unison -- "Chemo!!" Nice to have the audience firmly on your side. (Although later in the act, after I dropped something else, I did hear a staff member jokingly tell Deb, "You know, if it weren't for the chemo, he'd probably be pretty good!" Okay...)

And the balance of the act went just fine. We all got a bit nervous when I did the spinning-plate-on-a-stick-on-another-stick routine, as it looked like I was imperiling the health and well being of several audience members, but no one came out the worse for wear.

Towards the end of the act, I called one of the technicians out of the audience and placed a spinning plate on her finger. She looked over at the radiology doc and announced, plate still spinning on her finger, that "I don't need this job any more!" Several of us suggested she should keep the day job for a little longer.

At the end of the act, I realized that the end of my food tube had come loose from its holder and was clearly visible bobbing back and forth from under my shirt. My radiation doc asked if I juggled cans of Jevity -- the food replacement liquid that's kept me going for the last several weeks. The idea opened up an interesting line to a new act, but I think I'll just let that one go. I'm grateful to the Jevity people for producing such a fine product, but will be happy to see the last can of Jevity leave our house and my life.

One of the nurses, before the act but after she had seen the internet version of my DVD, looked at me very seriously and said, "Randy, you need to get back to your juggling as soon as you possibly can." I think she saw how much my performing means to me -- and what I can provide for my audiences.

Funny where your inspiration and confirmation can come from.