Wednesday, September 24, 2014

This Cardinal Disappoints Me





As a thoughtful Catholic, I am once again embarrassed and disappointed to hear that Cardinal Gerhard Mueller, head of the Congregation for the Doctrine of Faith continues his attack on American nuns.  In order manage my bitterness and rage; I prayed the words uttered by Christ, “Father forgive them for they know not what they do”.   Why does Cardinal Mueller continue to press ahead with this nonsensical, wasteful investigation of the Leadership Conference of Women Religious (LCWR)?    When Cardinal Mueller accuses the nuns of thumbing their noses at the Vatican, I can’t help but picture an immature, arrogant, vindictive man stomping his feet in a futile attempt to maintain his position of power.    Cardinal Mueller made a special point of criticizing the LCWR’s decision to honor Fordham University Theologian, Sister Elizabeth Johnson at their annual assembly this summer in Nashville, Tenn.    This criticism makes me question if Cardinal Mueller actually took the time to read any of Sr. Elizabeth Johnson’s many scholarly works, and if he did, did he fail to comprehend them?  For if he had read, listened to, and understood her enlightened message, he, too, would be praising her as one of the most saintly individuals of our era.   
Photo is my classmate, Pat, from St. Vincent's Hospital School of Nursing greeting the Guest Speaker, Sr. Elizabeth Johnson, at the St. Joseph Provincial House here in Latham, NY  in April 2013

Thursday, September 18, 2014

September 18, 1971

43 years ago today, i.e., September 18th 1971, at St. Michael the Archangel Catholic Church on Jerome Street in Brooklyn, NY was the scene of this life changing event.  I said , "I do" and Bob said it too and here we are all these years later married still.  I don't think we had a clue as to what we were in for- does anyone really know what they are signing up for when they say those words, "For better or for worse for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health until death do us part".  Bob was pale and clammy, I was on a Equinol (thanks to my dear Daddy)and we made it though the day.   Bob was truly the best man for me and I hope I was the best woman for him (he always wanted to marry a nurse and I always wanted to marry a man who was stronger than me).  I think we both got what we wanted.  He told me long ago that our love was different than other loves - you know the loves that eventually dissolved, gave up and fell by the wayside.  He said our love would survive the test of time.  He promised me that and I cherished that promise through thick and thin.   It hasn't always been a bed of roses but it certainly was worth it and I would do it again in a heartbeat.  After all, anyone who knows me well, knows I looked far and wide to find the "best" man for me and with the help of God, I found him.  Besides, I always loved his voice and his sense of humor - what more could a woman ask for!
The Mass was con-celebrated by Fr. Godfrey Leuchinger, OFM Cap, Fr. Owen Shelly, OFM Cap and Fr. Al Varriale (of St. Rita's Church  and counselor extraordinare.

Thursday, September 11, 2014

One of the Lucky Ones - Article that appeared in the Times Union



My cousin Glenn drove Engine 54  for a firehouse in the theater district in midtown Manhattan.

At age 50, Glenn was a senior member of his company. Not too long before 9/11, my husband and were in Manhattan to see a show on Broadway and we decided to walk over to Glenn’s firehouse to say hello.

Glenn wasn’t there that day, but the younger guys on duty were more than happy to laugh and socialize with the family of one of their brothers. It was obvious they were a close-knit bunch of guys who loved to taunt and mess with each other.

We left the firehouse with a smile on our faces and a bounce in our step. These young, handsome, cheerful and robust bunch of guys had that kind of effect on you.

As fate would have it, Glenn’s firehouse was one of the first to respond when disaster hit the World Trade Center on that beautiful morning in September 2001.

He was on his last day of vacation. Shortly after the planes hit, all the off-duty firemen were called in to work. As they stood somberly awaiting their assignments, one of the men asked the question on everyone’s mind, “Were any of our guys lost?”

The answer they heard — “everyone” — was too horrifying to fully comprehend.

Everyone from Engine Company 54 who happened to be on duty the morning of Sept. 11, 2001, was gone — 15 men in all.

In a state of disbelief, the survivors started to ask about the men in surrounding firehouses.

The word — everyone — was repeated over and over again. The shocking truth was that almost all the firehouses in the nearby communities had lost all the men who were at work that morning.

At 1 a.m. that night, the guys from Engine Company 54 were down at the World Trade Center site, digging through the rubble, desperately hoping to find their brothers alive. As dawn approached, the full impact of the devastation came into focus — 50,000 desks, chairs, file cabinets and computers, as well as the steel and concrete of the world’s most majestic pair of skyscrapers, were reduced to white ash and unrecognizable rubble.

The surrounding buildings contained massive gaping holes and furiously burning fires.

The area was promptly labeled ground zero, a term previously used to describe the devastating destruction found at the epicenter of a nuclear attack.

Because Engine 54’s firehouse is in the center of one of Manhattan’s biggest tourist areas, typically the doors are left wide open. After Sept. 11, people from all over the world came to the firehouse to show their support and pay their respects.

My cousin told me, “I feel like I’m at an unending wake; I’ve never been hugged so much in all my life. Even the hugs are pulling me down; I just can’t stand it anymore.”

He described a pervading sense of numbness, as if the firemen had been anesthetized. He knew more than 60 firemen who died and he asked, “How can you lose so many friends in one swift swoop?” I had no answer for him.

There was no relief from the sorrow. Funerals and memorial services occurred in a constant stream. After many weeks, the wife of one of his comrades spoke as if her husband might still be found alive. My cousin told me how painfully heartbreaking it was to hear her clinging to this hope once he’d been to ground zero and had seen firsthand the minuscule particles that remained.

Because the word “off” was penciled into my cousin’s schedule for Tuesday, 9/11, most people defined him as one of the lucky ones. Yet, I know firsthand that he never recovered from this devastating loss. It appears that his life blew up along with those majestic towers. The overwhelming anguish he suffered led to severe post traumatic stress syndrome and his mind still contains an indelible picture of a hell known as ground zero.

Mary Beth Buchner lives in Latham.

First Anniversary in a Place called Heaven

One year ago, in the early morning hours of 9-11, my father left his body and went somewhere else.  People tell me how lucky I was to have my Dad for 68 years and I know they are completely correct.  
My father was a brilliant man and he grasped certain complex concepts that others couldn't "touch".    I loved to hear him talk about the stars and the galaxies and the many principles of physics that influenced our daily lives.  He seemed to know certain things innately and he retained countless facts without any effort.  If it was a subject that was "up his alley", it was a pleasure for him to read and study and remember.   He even got in trouble in pre-seminary school at  Garrison New York, for reading books that weren't part of the assignment.  These books were not "girly" magazines or frivolous fiction; they were books on the working of electricity!  He always needed to know why things worked the way they did.  He understood anatomy and physiology better than many doctors and nurses.  And when we were young children, he built us - his kids - a recorder player from scratch - things he had laying around his house.  How many kids can say their father did that?!   I didn't even realize it was home-made until years later. I thought every kid had a 3 foot high rectangular wooden box for their record player.  
But the most important lessons I learned from my Father had to do with love.   One quick story will illustrate my point.  One time when I was a child, the front doorbell rang and when I went to open it with my father quickly following behind, there stood a woman with a strap around the back of her neck from which hung a box of trinkets - thread, pencils, and other little inconsequential things.  She asked if we wanted to buy anything - obviously she was going door to door, trying to sell her wares.  My father, with a wave of his hand, dismissed her rather abruptly.  She turned and looking dejected began her descent down the long flight of stairs at 62 Interboro Parkway.   A few minutes later my father ran down the stairs and up the street after her.  I followed close behind to see what was up.  I had no idea what he was doing and why.   He called after the woman, she turned and waited.  When my father reached her side, he apologized for his harsh response to her.  He then rummaged through her container and found something he probably didn't need or want, paid her more than it was worth.  She thanked him and we turned and walked back home together.  He never explained his actions to me, but what he did that day taught me more about love and the type of person he was than any elaborate words he could have spoken.
So, today, on the first anniversary of his passing, I have to believe he is somewhere good, surrounded by love.

Tuesday, September 9, 2014

My Fortune Cookie


My Fortune Cookie said, "Find release from your cares, have a good time."   Was that a coincidence or did someone know that a boulder was lifted from my chest earlier in the afternoon when Dr. Chang shared the biopsy results with us.  I can't remember when I heard such good news.   There is NO cancer in the lymph glands - the malignancy appears to be confined to the prostate gland which is out of Bob's body!!  Good-bye you terrible disease!  Stay away, we don't like you.
 We celebrated over lunch at the Pearl of the Orient toasting each other with some Chinese Tsingtao Beer.  It was a marvelous day.   Praise God.  Thank you, Dr. Theodore Chang, and all the scientists and engineers, etc. who came up with this marvelous Robot.  By the way that horrible bruise is almost gone.  Some people have drains placed during surgery which likely eliminates the terrible bruising  but, the other side of the coin is the fact that this exposure to the outside could be another potential source of infection.    Thank you for all the prayers and good wishes.  The next step is continued recovery and periodically checking the PSA levels which should be and continue to remain 0 now that the prostate is gone  

Monday, September 8, 2014

Me & M. Geraldine

This weekend, I am preparing a salad for my fellow Maryknoll Affiliates and I decided to make a recipe that my friend, Gerry, made for Bob and Me when we visited with Gerry and Bill at their home on Long Island. We went out in their boat on the Long Island Sound on a gorgeously beautiful day - I can still feel the warmth of the sun on my face.  Later that evening we went upstairs and sat on her bed, opened a large box and went through some old photos.  Together we reminisced over old times on Arcadia Place as we looked at pictures of her handsome brother, JC,- on whom I had an enormous crush (he even escorted me to our St. Vincent's Hospital School of Nursing Capping Dance in 1963)- and her feisty "little" sister, Kathy, and their warm and welcoming parents with their smiling Irish eyes and lovely brogues. 
For dinner that evening on Long Island, Gerry prepared this great salad recipe and I think of her every time I make it and frequently in between.    I hope Gerry doesn't mind that I diverted a bit from her recipe but then again, she was used to my ways.  She knew I was a bit of a rebel rouser and behind that sweet, gentle exterior, she could be rather spirited herself.     M. Geraldine Crowley was a tremendous blessing in my life and I thank God for her.
Here is the Recipe:


Pasta with Tomatoes and Basil from my dear friend, M. Geraldine Crowley Fahey
4 ripe large tomatoes cut into ½ “ cubes
1 lb. Brie Cheese- rind removed- torn into irregular pieces
1 cup clean, fresh basil leaves, cut into strips
3 gloves garlic minced
½ cup (or more) best quality olive oil (original recipe says 1 cup + 1 TBL olive oil but I find that is too much for me)
2 and a half tsp salt
½ tsp fresh ground black pepper
1 and ½ lb. pasta (original recipe says linguine but I like to use bowties – little or big)
Add Parmesan Cheese at table before serving.
Prepare, i.e., mix at least two hours before serving (at room temperature) and set aside covered.

 


Thursday, September 4, 2014

More than I ever wanted to know about a Robotic Prostatectomy

It has been awhile since I have shared any family history on my Blog.   I have been too caught up in the present to share the past.  Bob had a laparoscopic, robotic radical prostatectomy last Friday, August 29th, and that has kept us busy.  I, of course, have been a nervous wreck.  I wish I could say I was brave and strong but I would be lying.    Bob, thank God, is doing very well. Although it hasn't been exactly fun, we appear to be progressing very nicely.  Surprisingly, after having the surgery at 10:30 AM on Friday, he was at a Labor Day party at our friend's home on Monday.   He stayed for a full 4 hours and even laughed and socialized as if nothing had happened to him.  Amazing man!     Tuesday morning when he wakes up, he shows me the bruise the size of Alaska on his right side and scares the living daylights out of me.   He also tells me he is feeling rather weak and since no one warned us that this type of massive bruising could happen, I assume that he may be hemorrhaging internally.
I called the Surgeon's office as soon as the place opened and they said they would see him immediately.  As soon as he pulls some pants on, we are in the car on the way to St. Peter's Hospital Professional Building  to see the doctor.  I'm expecting they may want to admit him and possibly do emergency surgery to stop the bleeding, so needless to say, I'm pretty shock up.  Nonetheless, I start to play a role, I literally feel like an actress, I am acting the part of a cool cucumber so as not to alarm my husband.  Besides we also have our inquisitive 9 year old grandson, Connor, for the day and he is going with us to the Doctor's office.  No need to start screaming and fainting in front of them both - what the hell good would that do.
The doctor comes in, pulls up Bob's shirt and says something like, "oh, that's normal".    I'm relieved Bob doesn't need emergency surgery but still can't believe that this type of massive bruise is "within normal limits".  I want to believe it.  We like this guy a lot and have great faith in him, so I start to breathe a little easier.   That night the bruise is twice as big as it was in the morning and I now I am wondering once again, do we go to the ER?, am I ignoring a dangerous symptom? am I an utter fool?
For God's sake, I'm an RN, I should be doing something!  Bob says "no, we're not going anywhere, I'm going to bed".  I tell him I'm going on line to do some research and he says, "fine".  I try to find some photos of "bruising after prostatectomy' but find none. Finally I find some written material that says a man can have "rather dramatic bruising after robotic prostatectomy" and another piece by a guy who says he had a bruise that was 16inches by 12 inches.  That's about the size of Bob's bruise so, I shut down the computer, say a prayer, take an Ativan and go to sleep.
The top photo is from the Labor Day Party on Monday.
This next photo is the bruise.  I bet you would have freaked out too!  I do think people should be told that this type of bruising can happen.