-----Original Message-----
From: 	Mark.Nehler@UCHSC.edu@ENRON [mailto:IMCEANOTES-Mark+2ENehler+40UCHSC+2Eedu+40ENRON@ENRON.com] 
Sent:	Wednesday, May 23, 2001 11:37 AM
To:	mswerzb@ect.enron.com
Subject:	My mother's service

Mike and Helen,
Thanks very much for attending my mother's service.  Sydney and I are sorry
we did not get to spend more time with you during my time in Portland.  I
will make sure to contact you next time I am coming into town.  I have
enclosed a residency newsletter I sent out to all of the faculty and
resident's summarizing my eulogy to my mother.  I thought it would be useful
as an educational tool as we all unfortunately have to go through this at
some point.  Please feel free to share it with whomever you wish.  One of
the things I have learned the most through all of this is the importance of
sharing.  Take care.

I want to thank everyone who has written to me via mail or E-mail regarding
the recent death of my mother.  This has been a growth experience for me.
Although I am emotionally devastated, I have learned a tremendous amount
about life in the last few weeks and months.  Since this topic is one we all
must face at some time in our lives, I thought sharing some of this would be
helpful for myself and also for those of you who have either faced it in the
past or will in the future.  It is really a tribute to my mother (a former
schoolteacher), as this was her last lesson for me.  The following is a
summary of my eulogy to her at her memorial service 4/18/01.

What I Learned:  Reflections on my Mother's Life

	1.	True Love:  My mother and I had a volatile relationship
during part of my life.  Like many people, I was very self-centered during
my late teens and most of my twenties.  I did well in my professional life,
but I was not very giving in my relationships (either girlfriends or
family).  My mother was not shy to point out her disappointment with these
behaviors and we had many heated discussions during that time period.  I
have noticed that many friends have had volatile relationships with their
closest parent.  I have learned that true love is about passion for the
other person.  One cannot be silent when you believe changes need to be
made.  Some of the hard times draw you even closer later in life.
Ultimately, my mother was right.  I am very proud of my 30s and grateful
that she was able to witness my maturation as a person.

	2.	Grief:  Of course, I have learned a lot about grief.  Grief
is 90% about you.  In the last few days of her life, there were many tears.
Almost all were mine.  My mother had accepted her fate and had a strong
Christian faith.  She was primarily worried about the effect her death would
have on my sister and I.  The vacant spot in your heart and life cannot be
measured.  It will be a wound that cannot heal as you progress in your life
and cannot directly share it with your loved one.  It will come in waves
triggered by various thoughts and activities, as if it was a neurologic
disorder.  All I can say as comfort to those who have not experienced it is
this:  When the unthinkable happens and you lose what you cannot bear to
consider losing, your life is permanently changed.  However, not all of the
changes will be towards the abyss of permanent melancholy that you assume
will occur.  There will be growth and understanding.  There will be
spiritual and emotional opportunity.  Friends and family will step up to the
plate for you.  (More on this later).

	3.	Role Models:  Like most young boys, my idols as a child were
the typical sport stars, people who did larger than life things that I had
never met.  I tried to pursue the usual goals of the young American male.  I
wanted to be physically attractive, well rounded and intelligent, and
economically prosperous.  I wanted to "have it all".  As I grow older, my
definition for "having it all" has changed.  My father is an incredible man.
He lost his left arm at the shoulder in a hunting accident age twelve.
Despite this, he did everything a person with two arms could do, and
sometimes even better.  My friends looked at him as an incredible
inspiration.  I did not pay as much attention to my mother's attributes.
She was simply an incredible giving person.  The unfortunates, the lonely,
the downtrodden never went unnoticed by my mother.  She cultivated friends
and family like a good farmer cultivates crops.  The rewards of this became
obvious to me as I spent more time with her in the last few years.  People
visited her constantly.  People called about her constantly.  People did
things for her constantly.  People prayed for her and loved her constantly.
I never would have thought that as I approach 40, my most important role
model would be a frail woman who spent a lot of time in a wheel chair.  I
will never be the same after going through this with her.  For that, I will
always be grateful.


	4.	Glass Half Full Person:  My favorite quote from my mother is
"I am having a good day".  This was what I always heard when I would phone
her to check on her which I did daily the last year.  For my mom, seeing a
nice arrangement of flowers, visiting with a relative or neighbor, these
were the things that made life grand.  As one gets busier and busier, I
think one tends to become a glass half empty person more and more.
Accomplishments just lead to more deadlines.  The focus is on what you don't
have rather than what you have.  Perspective can become fatally altered.  I
notice the flowers more, the kindness I see more, the sights and smells of
the world more, and appreciate the life I have built more rather than
focusing on the life I want to build.  This is probably the most important
lesson my mother taught me.

	5.	Caregivers:  As a person in the medical profession, I
witness care giving every day.  However, until you have participated in it
yourself, particularly with a loved one, you have not really lived.  The
intimacy you get with the person who you make meals for, wash for, and help
with ADLs is not describable.  You develop little rituals that you look
forward to as much as the person you do it for.  It takes a special type of
person to do this kind of work full-time.  Those moments with my mother will
sustain me the rest of my life no matter what happens to me.

	6.	Priorities:  We all think everything we do is the most
important thing on this planet.  Going through this, I realize that nothing
is more important in your life than your family.  Dr. Krupski said it best
when I came into his office in tears several times needing to go home to be
with my mother this last year.  He said "Ten years from now, you will not
remember what paper you wrote, what operation you did, what talk you gave.
But, you will always remember and treasure the time with your mother.  Go
home."  He was right, and I will never be able to repay him for the ability
to spend time with her.

	7.	Friendships/Neighbors:  As I stated, my mother was excellent
at cultivating these relationships.  It is really not rocket science, it
just requires your time and being open.  I was amazed that she kept contact
with 8 friends from high school (50 years) till the day of her death.  They
would get together regularly.  In the modern world, this is very unusual.
Perhaps it is because we all have distorted priorities.  In addition, she
had a very tight bond with her neighbors.  I remember we had all of the
neighbor kids playing at our house regularly because of the size of our
yard.  One day a boy broke his leg (clearly an immediate lawsuit today), but
that did not stop the neighborhood kids.  My mother was on hospice months
before she officially went on the list.  It was the neighborhood hospice.
They would drive her places, fix her plumbing, and mow her lawn, all for
free.  They would bring food, come visit, and share their lives with her.
It was an incredible thing to see.

	8.	Courage:  My mother spent the last 30 months of her life
with an hematocrit between 15 and 25.  She rarely complained.  She mustered
the strength in the last year to attend my sister's wedding, her high school
reunion, and shop for holidays and decorate the house for Christmas.  She
went to restaurants with friends.  A month before her death she went to
lunch with me twice, went on a trip to a local waterfall, and went shopping
at the local center.  She did all of this with a hematocrit of 17.
Seventeen is the number I will always remember when I am tired and wishing I
could sleep but the life and job I have requires my time.

	9.	Acceptance:  How does one learn to live with the
unthinkable?  Well, I have come to understand many things.  The worst part
of chronic illness is watching your loved one slowly fade over time.
However, they are so miserable at the end that having them leave is more
acceptable.  My mother had a tremendous faith, and I know she is in a better
place.  I have changed as a person based on the above reflections, and I
understand that part of her will always live on through my life and actions.
It is a time of great emotion, but also great opportunity.  Many friends and
family come out to support you, which allow a chance to reunite past
relationships with others.  My sister and I have become very close through
all of this.  That would make my mother proud and happy.   Memorial services
and the like are all about celebration of life.  There are tears, but most
of remembrance is the honor of sharing the person's life.  I know my mother
more now than I ever did.  I have 2.5 hours of her on video to share with my
future children so they can know her too.  I am the product of two
schoolteachers.  They were awesome teachers and not surprisingly awesome
parents.  Much of what we are comes from those that raised us.  I did not
understand that before.  I do now.

Thanks for allowing me to share some of my mother's life with you.
Hopefully it will be as meaningful to you reading it as it was to me writing
it.



Mark R. Nehler, M.D.
Assistant Professor
Vascular Surgery Section
University of Colorado Health Sciences Center
4200 East Ninth Avenue, #5521
Denver CO 81262-0312
303-315-6489
Mark.Nehler@UCHSC.edu