Why 'Wake'?

My Aunt, Marie Anderson was among the most wise and beautiful women I have ever known.

Whenever a friend or relative would pass away, Aunt Marie was the first to organize ‘the wake’. Aunt Marie’s wakes were referred to in the possessive …“Laura’s Wake” or “Uncle Hubert’s Wake” etc.

At seventeen, after the tragic loss of my 25 year-old sister-in-law, Susan, everyone congregated at Aunt Marie and Uncle Andy’s place for “Susan’s Wake”. It was held immediately after the funeral and consisted of laughing, drinking, eating and reminiscing. It was a ‘party’.

I didn’t get it. How could anyone be happy at a time like this?

Susan was an oncology nurse and I aspired to be like her and now she was gone forever. I was devastated by her loss and along with a few other mourners was somewhat miffed about this ‘wake’ business as we felt that the laughter and frivolity was disrespectful. So, I isolated myself from the group and cried. I cried for her loss, her youth and her love. I cried for my brother.

After sitting alone for a while, drowning in my tears of sorrow, Aunt Marie joined me. What she said to me changed the way I thought about ‘wakes’ from then on …”Joanie, I have wakes to help people get beyond their grief and this party gives everyone permission to laugh again. Life goes on and know that Susan will forever remain in your heart but it’s time to get back with the living.” With that said, she led me to her kitchen table - the 'party spot' for my family - where I listened to the older relatives telling stories, jokes and laughing. Before I knew it, I was laughing too. That incredible weight of grief I felt in the pit of my stomach was lifting and I sensed Susan was watching us all with approval, joy and mostly, relief.

This week, I and my E.R. colleagues, Jim, Cathy,Bobbie and Carin had the honor of organizing “Lou’s Wake.” It was held after his Memorial service and all seventy attendees contributed to the cause. We laughed, ate, drank and reminisced about our friend who will always remain in our hearts.

We laughed while being reminded of Lou's 'Magic Eight Ball' and it's helpfulness when all else failed in decision making, the value of the "Tooth to Tattoo Ratio' in determining one's I.Q. and told stories of Lou's impact on us throughout the time he was in our lives. I'll bet that if he was looking down on us, he would have approved.

Dr. Louis Portera meant so much to so many.

St Thomas Aquinas Catholic Church has a capacity of 800 people - every pew was occupied. Baby blue coloured ribbons were worn by the Emergency Department mourners to commemorate the signature colour of Dr Portera's scrubs. Nice touch - he would have liked that.
As we continue in life remembering Lou and all that he meant to us, I'm thinking that he might have wanted to leave us with these final, parting words of advice..."Do The Right Thing".
Thanks Lou.

Dr. Louis Portera

Within a year, I've lost my Dad, my brother and now a friend and mentor, Dr Louis Portera - so pardon me if I 'yammer' on. What's it all about anyway? The question has been pondered and posed by philosophers, theologians and the like for centuries. So I'm not so certain that we will know the answer. In the interim, there is no law that says we can't 'make up' our own answers as we go along... Take Edward "Bruce" Merritt's obituary... It seems as though the writer (and quite possibly Bruce himself ) had a real grasp on things. Reading it not only made me laugh, but it also gave me an appreciation for who Bruce was and how much he meant to his sisters, the nation, his wives, children, grandchildren and friends. Yesterday, I learned that Dr Louis Portera (Lou) a man who positively impacted my life as a nurse and human being, died. I reflected on how much he meant to his family, the nurses, doctors, techs, firemen, paramedics, police officers, office staff and most importantly, the E.R. patients. But he was so much more than just an E.R. Doc. Initially, Lou was somewhat distant to new ER employees but he always remained professional. It was his very own "probationary period". No one 'failed' probation, it just gave him a 'feel' for your level of skill, decision making and temperament. When Lou's 'probation' had ended, you knew it - as you were invited into his world and that of his family. It was an honour. His wife, Becky was the light of his life. An avid reader and decorator, Becky was featured in a local decorating magazine - you would have thought she had won the Nobel Prize. When his eldest daughter, Lauren was accepted into The Rhode Island School of Design and married...he was so proud. There was a time when Lou didn't have a lot of good things to say about lawyers, but when Joseph, his son became one, he beamed. He got a kick out of telling the story of a teenaged Cameron, his youngest daughter refusing to be seen riding in his new Mazda Miata . The times I saw Lou become a little teary-eyed was when he learned of his brother's promotion at a university and when he spoke of his grandchildren. As an ER Doc, he was the best. I can confidently say that I never saw him sweat. Always professional, grounded and consistent. I loved that about Lou. Never heard a curse from him, no tantrums or grandstanding.

In the few short days before his passing - the ER Family communicated largely by a social network site and we were able to remember some good times with Lou...

• Our system to assign ER docs was simple. We had two ER Doctors. If the Medical Record number ended in an even number - the patient would be assigned to the "Even" doc. If the MR number ended in an odd number, then Lou would get the patient as he was always the"Odd"doc. It fit and he liked it.
• According to Lou... "An Admission = number of allergies + number of complaints x number of miles one lives from the hospital. Anything over 500 = Admit" - Caveat; "Add 200 points to the final total for a positive suitcase sign"
• According to Lou..."Squirrelly-ness is directly proportional to the number of rings one wears on ones hands"
• According to Lou..."Rule Out MI (myocardial infarction) on any IDDM (insulin-dependant diabetic) with vague 'don't feel so good' complaint"
• Lou loved to play. One of our E.R. docs (Colletta) was a little obsessive-compulsive and required order. When Colletta was away from his desk, Lou would tangle up the phone cords and mess up the papers on his desk just to watch him put everything back.
• Upon entering a patient's room, Lou would clasp his hands together, peer over his bifocals and say, "So, tell me your troubles today."
• Most entries were of how much Lou meant to everyone, how he honoured us all with his sincere interest and observations but also with his gentle criticisms.

Although Lou may not have been as 'salty' as Edward "Bruce" Merritt - he was a character in his own right and we all loved him for his knowledge, integrity and skill. A great role model to us all both personally and professionally and for that I consider myself lucky to have known him. So, is that what it's all about? Louis Portera MD