Reflections from Two Years Ago

Please don’t feel obligated to read my reflections but in case anyone is interested here goes….. Reflections regarding my anxiety surrounding my Nuclear Stress Test -so I after having some time to think about it, this is what I came up with: 1. During the last stress test, my blood pressure went so high that they kept taking it every two seconds and so I was concerned over having a similar reaction this time. Even though my blood pressure was a bit outrageous yesterday, the lady in charge of the treadmill and watching me seem to take it in stride. 2. I was also concerned that I might not be able to have an adequate test and then they would push me to have the medication that makes your heart race, and I wanted to avoid that at all cost! I have a sensitive heart(❤️ no pun intended) and something as simple as too much caffeine can give me tachycardia. 3. This particular time I was especially anxious about needing stents placed since I had been having significant chest pain recently. On my most recent visit to the cardiac office, I saw a Nurse Practitioner rather than the doctor and frankly I felt she was more interested in establishing her authority than in listening to what I was saying to her. I told her I was having frequent chest pain but I was also suffering from rather significant Gastrointestinal- Esophageal Reflux Disease. I told her that the pain improved during vigorous walking. She started to hand me a prescription for a new cardiac medication, Renexa. I told her I was already taking 5 cardiac drugs already (Atorvastatin Calcium, ie, Lipitor, Propranolol HCL ER Cap 60 mg, ie, Inderal, Hydochlorothiazide 12.5 mg, Norvasc 5 mg twice a day, Lisinopril 40 mg ) and I preferred to see if it was indeed my heart that was causing the chest pain before adding another medication. The NP said that the Renexa would help with the Nuclear Stress Test. She meant the medication induced stress test and I had already told her that I did not want that medication and I planned to walk the treadmill. But I must say that my Nursing School Buddy probably hit the nail on the head-I was really frightened that they might tell me I needed stents and frankly that scares the hell out of me because the damn stents basically killed my beloved older brother, Charlie. He was placed on the anticoagulant, Plavix, and one hot and humid July night a plastic molded chair tipped backwards and he hit his head on a decorative cement paver behind him. A week later he was dead after the neurosurgeon tried every medication in the hospital to stop the bleeding in his brain but nothing worked. So yes, Susan Smith Joseph, I believe the thought of needing a stent was probably the biggest reason for my anxiety. I’m thankful that no blockages were found!! And I don’t think I will have another Nuclear Stress Test but I’ll cross that bridge if and when I come to it. I guess the bottom line is I’m afraid of dying but more specifically having no control over the circumstances. One more very good reason to be anxious-I’m a retired RN and I’ve seen the consequences of a few medical/nursing mistakes. Sometime, I’ll tell you a story of my own miraculous miracle but not tonight because it’s after 11pm- pass my bedtime.

Charles A.Fries Sr locksmith and photographer

i stand corrected: My husband read this Blog entry and it appears there were two separate events regarding breaking open locks. Apparently the very old, heavy safe was in the sacristry behind the altar and Bob was the one who accompanied my Dad on this assignment. i brought my Dad to the rectory on another occasion and i followed closely behind him as he ascended the steep rectory stairs to the second floor. He had his toolbox with him and it was heavy withe the tools of his trades ( there were many types of jobs he was good at) i honestly don't remember if he let me carry it but probably he insisted he could carry it despite being in his golden years. It might have been a file cabinet or a personal safe he had been summoned unlock on that occasion but as usual he succeeded. My Dad didn't like any job to defeat him, any puzzle to go unsolved. My original post starts here: So anyone out there in Facebook Land know anything about this “Recording Wire”? I found it in a container with 8mm film and old VHS tapes. I remember my father using a rather large, old fashioned looking tape recorder machine when I was a kid. He had access to a lot of equipment when he worked for Queens College in Flushing NY ( he started there in 1940 and was with them for 40 years) and pretty much had complete access to anything connected with cameras and equipment and technological stuff. Among other many other talents, he was an excellent locksmith and had access to every room at the college. At one point after a bit of an uprising on campus he was assigned to change every lock in the entire campus. Later in life, as a rather old man, Father David Noone, the Pastor at Christ Our Light Church in Loudonville NY, asked my Dad to open the church safe via the combination lock since no one knew the code. I remember following behind my father - unsteady with age - on the steep stairs of the rectory on Exchange Street to get to the heavy, old safe that was located on the second floor. My father was able to listen to the combination lock clicks and could open the safe without breaking the lock. Afterwards he told my husband Bob, if he hadn’t gone the honest route, he would have made a great second story man. He learned his locksmithing skills as a kid when he hung around and helped his Uncle John at his shop in Williamsburg, Brooklyn ( the old German Town )

The Roaring Lion on the Movie Screen

A marvelous memory: I never hear the opening of a movie without thinking of the following: Going to the movie theater as a kid. It was at the RKO Bushwich or the Loew’s Gates on Broadway in the Bushwich section of Brooklyn. My Aunt Anne O’Donnell use to take Cousin Sharon O’Donnell and me and then we would go either to the Ice Cream Parlor for hamburgers and a chocolate malt ( in a large frosty metal container from which you could pour more and more delicious malted into your glass - it was like being in Heaven! )or up the stairs to a Chinese restaurant next to the elevated train on Broadway. We saw such movies as “ Dial M for Murder” with Grace Kelly, “Singing in the Rain. “ and “ The Seven Little Foys” as well as others. We would walk in at anytime during the movie and stay until we got back to the point at which we walked in. Sometimes it would be a double feature or at least a cartoon or a “short”.

Anne R. McCarthy-a adolescent’s memory

Another wonderful memory involving Anne Purtell occurred when I was 12 years old. My Dad drove my mother and me to Hoboken, New Jersey, where we boarded a train by the name of “ The Phoebe Snow” and headed to Binghamton, NY. We were on our way to attend Anne’s wedding to Mr. Eugene McCarthy. My mother absolutely loved her younger Coleman cousin, Anne, and on several occasions Anne shared with me the loving feelings she had towards my Mom, her older cousin, Rita Mary O’Donnell Fries whom she admired and viewed as a role model. A bit of family pride was the fact that the 8 Coleman children born to Hannah Byrne and G. Francis Coleman produced a whopping 46 first cousins. For me, Anne was a link between her generation and mine. We were 10 years apart in age - Anne was born in 1935 and I came into this world in 1945. As my mother taught me, I was Anne’s “first cousin, once removed “. As I got older Anne became a mentor, role model, non-judgmental sounding board, and a true spiritual soul mate. I am filled with gratitude for Anne Purtell McCarthy and I will carry her love in my heart eternally.

Anne Purtell McCarthy-my first memory

https://photos.app.goo.gl/jTjQvBRhJbnX5w1G7 My very first memory involving Anne McCarthy occurred during the summer of 1951 when I was 6 years old. My family and I were staying for a little vacation at my Great-Great Aunt Bridge’s farm ( Bridget Byrne O’Reilly was my Great Grandmother’s (Hannah Byrne Coleman)sister in St. Joseph, Pennsylvania. Coming from the hot city streets of Brooklyn, this time on a farm in the country seemed like heaven. Being 10 years older than me, Anne was a teenager and still “Anne Purtell “. At that time, she was living at the farm with her mother, my Great Aunt Norene Coleman Purtell. They had moved into the farm to help Norene’s Aunt Bridge who was quite elderly and incapacitated. When my mother brought me into a bedroom behind the staircase in the old farmhouse to meet my Great Great Aunt Bridge, I remember seeing a frail, ancient woman sitting in a bed, a big old cat lying on on the blanket beside her. At that time in her life, Anne appeared to me to be a popular and socially involved teenager. Even as a 6 year old I took notice of Anne “fancying herself up”, leaving the house, and jumping into the front seat next to a young man in a pickup truck. One rather clear memory from a truly magical vacation was this interaction: When my cousin, Anne, invited me into her room I noticed and admired a little canvas Indian teepee and canoe that she had recently acquired at a local county fair. When she saw my wide-eyed excitement, she picked up this treasure, handed it to me, saying “Here, you can keep it. “ The fact that she was willing to give it to me “for keeps” impressed me beyond words and I knew, then and there, that I would love her forever.