I was eulogist for the second time in my life last Tuesday morning. It was during a Thanksgiving Mass for the life of my friend and long-time neighbour, Eleanor Mc Lean, who had passed away on September 6, after a long illness.
This may be the first time that many will realise that her name was Eleanor, and not Ellie as she was always called. Then too she was El, Auntie Ellie, Miss Ellie, Nursie, but just never Eleanor.
Ellie was an English-trained nurse with a specialty from a leading eye hospital. She was a professional at the highest level and in addition to private practice in the early days, had worked for many years as the nurse at Johnson and Johnson, Trincity.
There was a caring and compassion that she showed for anyone with even the common cold that always touched me. You mentioned a problem and she immediately asked "and what are you taking for it or have you been to the doctor" not letting up until you gave the answer she wanted to hear. I always felt that should I get ill, Ellie would be the nurse whom I would have wanted at my bedside.
There was always some elderly individual that Ellie was looking after, not to mention the clinic she ran at St Patrick's Roman Catholic Church in Newtown, for many years. After a long day at the company with which she worked, having left Maraval to journey to Trincity before dawn, rain, sun or shine, parishioners who couldn't afford too many doctor's visits and/or other medical attention, could put their pot on fire that Nursie would be there to help them.
Ellie was an honest, straight-forward, no nonsense woman. No one could come back and tell you that she had said something about you as Ellie would have told you first. Unlike those in today's world, Ellie never sat on the fence, she always gave her opinion when asked and would be the first to say without bias "you are wrong" or "you are right." She had lots of patience with those who didn't know better, but if you fell in the other category, Lord help you as she was not about to suffer fools gladly.
She was determined and could be stubborn but was sensible enough to come around if given very, very good reasons why. I will dearly miss my friend's infectious grin and her dry sense of humour. May she rest in eternal peace.