In Remembrance of My Mother

Carolyn Nunley: 1941 - 2011

I rarely post about personal stuff, but I'm making an exception for this. Some of you who are my facebook friends have already heard.

On January 11, 2011, my mother passed away due to COPD resulting from emphysema. I won't go into the details, but I will say she suffered greatly, struggling for every breath. It was very difficult to watch. Watching her die that way makes me want to grab every smoker I know (and each of you smokers who may be reading this), and beg you to do whatever it takes to stop. Do this not just for yourself, but to spare your family the anguish of a slow and lingering death. I had to make some hard decisions, and make tough calls, and I hope I never have to do it again.

With that out of the way, let me tell you about the wonderful person she was. She was a registered nurse, and I have always been proud of the fact that she graduated from Yale University School of Nursing, where she attended on a scholarship. She worked at many hospitals, including the Norwich State Hospital. Anyone who has been stationed in Groton, CT knows what that was. For those of you that don't - it was what is referred to as the "nut house".

A funny story goes along with that. She was working there when a coworker, who's husband happened to be the Bull Nuke on the Patrick Henry (my dad's boat), introduced them. While my parents were dating, and afterwords, whenever she told someone she met that she worked at the State Hospital, my dad would quickly chime in with "Yeah, and I'm one of her patients!". She never thought that was as funny as the rest of us did. 

She specialized in geriatrics and was the Director of Nursing in several nursing homes before she retired. She was a consummate professional in her career. She was always proud of the fact that her patients rarely ever had bed sores, and that she would do whatever it takes to make sure they didn't. She always said there is no excuse for bed sores. So if any of you has a loved one in care, don't let them bullshit you about "it can't be helped". It can, and anything else is neglect.

It was hard growing up as a nurse's kid. I could rarely ever fake being sick! I would tell her I wasn't feeling well. She would take my temperature, look down my throat (she would use a wooden spoon handle for a tongue depressor), listen to my chest, and palpitate my stomach and my throat. Her reply would be "You'll live. Get ready for school." Damn. Life was tough, I tell you. She was as unwavering in her principles as my father. There was no compromise, and backtalk was certainly not tolerated. I could never get away with a lie, either. She always expected my best in my schoolwork. Excellence in my education was paramount, with proper manners a close second. God help me if I was anything but polite and respectful. She was disappointed when I brought home anything less than a "B", and an "A" was the goal for next semester/test/project. If she hadn't been as firm as she was, I doubt I would be the man I am today.

Everyone she knew said she was the most kind, giving, and caring person they had ever met. She was always willing to help someone out. Her neighbor, Beth, had breast cancer, and needed a nurse to give her the chemo injections every day. Unfortunately, Medicare wouldn't cover it, but they covered the medication. Go figure. Anyway, my mother gave Beth those injections every day for months. Beth told me at the funeral that if it wasn't for my mother, she would have died. My mother gave her time selflessly to many church organizations, and was a devotee of the Rosary. She was very generous to me and my family. Something wonderful was to see her many friends, old and new, come from far and wide to pay their last respects. All of her Legion of Mary friends from church came to say goodbye. At one point, they had the funeral parlor packed. I turned around and there was an ocean of blue hair! How awesome is that?! She was dearly loved by all who knew her. How could you not?

The hallmark of my mother's life was service. Not just in volunteer work, but in her professional life as well. She cared for countless thousands of sick and elderly, helping them regain their health, or giving them comfort in their final hours. After she retired, even though at times she was in great discomfort, she still came out for her church volunteer organizations. She reached out to people with warmth, and though they may have only been part of our life for a few years, made strong bonds of friendship that time and distance never faded. Service was her whole life, and she touched so many lives through it. If we are going to do something to honor my mother's memory, I think the best way would be is to serve others.

My mother was indeed all of those things, and much much more. She was incredibly smart, beautiful, wise, totally devoted to my father (I've been told "they made a great team"!), tough when she needed to be, strong enough to do the hard things, and loving and caring always. Her faults? I do not recall any now. I will miss her all the rest of my days.