Thursday, June 4, 2009

Two Things

The St. Raphael's hospital's Father McGivney Cancer Center recently opened up about a half mile from my house. It's a new addition to the buildling where Dr. R used to have an office. (His practice is still there, but he moved to an office about 20 minutes away.)

It looks like a very cool facility, with some cutting-edge technology, and will save a lot of people from traveling to downtown New haven (which isn't that big a deal, but when you're going in for a treatment, it's one less stressful thing to worry about).

The Cancer Center had an open house on Sunday. Isabel and I joked about what exactly a cancer center Open House would be like. Naturally, I went where I shouldn't and suggested there might be entertainment (Chemo the Clown, maybe?). Our local paper had a story about the open house this week. No photos of clowns, but there was a picture of a CT/PET scan machine with balloons on it. Unfortunately, I can't find it online.

Come on, kids -- who says radiation-based diagnostic imaging systems can't be fun, huh?

*********************

Catherine is playing softball this year, and I was roped into coaching. There's another guy who's head coach. At first, he just "needed a little help with practices." Then I somehow became official assistant coach. Soon after that, he told me, "You know, sometimes I need to go out of town for a few days for work..." (That's only happened once, and the game got rained out, so I didn't have to be interim head coach for the night.)

It's actually kind of fun. I was assistant coach at various times for the boys' baseball teams, so I don't mind doing it, and most of the girls on the team are a trip and keep me smiling. At Catherine's age, it's a "coach pitch" league, so while the head coach pitches to the girls, I keep score, coach first base, and help out where I can.

But Tuesday night, the coach asked me to pitch for the first time, so he could work with the girls as they were up at bat. I had pitched some to the girls during practices, but this was my first time during a game. Catherine happened to be the first batter that I faced.

I hit her with a pitch.

Now, those of you who know Catherine know that, since she's been about six months old, Catherine has had what her pediatrician called a "disarming stare." After I hit her with the pitch, I got that stare. It's kind of through half-closed eyes, with a look that says both "You're lucky I have so much self control" and "You're buying me ice cream after the game."

She was fine. I didn't even let her take first base.

There's no crying in softball. No balloons or clowns, either.

Catherine and Dad, in the happy days before I hit her with a pitch....

3 comments:

mike said...

I wish your practice had happened before my visit last Saturday.

I'll make a note to teach Catherine the finer points of throwing your bat at the pitcher, and charging the mound. It all comes down to sizing up the pitcher. The sequence is important, because in some cases, if the pithcer is a lumbering slow poke(think tug McGraw), you want the bat to go first, and then come in with cleats about thigh hi, taking the rhino down quickly. If, on the other hand, the pithcer is a wiry guy (think Pedro Martinez) you want that bat in your hands as you approach the mound since that gives you the best chance at maximum damage. Remember what Pedro did to Don Zimmer. (el Toro). At least this is how Mom explained ot to me.

In any event, I'm very proud of my niece. The glaring stare down is the best reaction after the first head hunting episode, followed by of of the aforementioned (good SAT word insert) strategies.

In closing, I will say you're extremely lucky to have a well tempered daughter like Catherine. If it was me and Nicole, I woul certainly have been in the emergency room.

Mike

Lymphomaniac said...

My guess is that Catherine would go with the Tug McGraw/rhino appraoch if I pitch to her again. She's the stealthy type -- she'll wait until I'm not looking, and then return the favor. (But with a soup ladel -- that's how we roll in this family.)

Joe said...

So Bob, you hit her with a pitch and you didn't even let her take first base? What a great dad! Hope the ice cream was good.