In Memoriam

Do I pay tribute in this allotted space to my dear friend or to my respected colleague? Perhaps the two are so inextricably linked that I can do both. There are times in our lives when circumstances happen, paths cross, and our lives change because of choices we make. So it was in the fall of 2000 Linda and I found ourselves working together in a small Midwestern hospital and a best friend-ship began.

I knew of Linda Moore, R. EP T., CNIM long before I ever knew her. Linda was considered a foremost authority in evoked potentials and intraoperative monitoring. She was a superb and sought-after podium presenter. At ASET meetings no matter what course I had actually registered for, I always made sure I attended Linda’s talks. I always learned something new from her. I had the privilege of learning one-on-one from her as well. She never believed for a moment that I couldn’t master new equipment or techniques. She instilled that same confidence in all of her “students” across this country and around the world during her tenure at Nicolet where she was employed as an intraoperative monitoring Applications Specialist from 1994 to 1998. So many ASET members have shared with me their personal stories about how Linda affected their careers and what a great teacher she had been for them. She would have been amazed to know this.

As an ABRET board member from 2000 to 2004, Linda brought a huge knowledge base to the written exam item review sessions. As the evoked potential section director, she had a sincere compassion for all of “her” evoked potential candidates. Her ability to deal with any piece of equipment on hand made her an invaluable asset to the oral exam process. She had a tenacious, uncompromising sense of responsibility to make the registry exam relevant, fair, and of high quality.

As with many of us, Linda never intended to be an END technologist, rather she planned to be a social worker. She earned an AAS in Human Services from Delaware Technical and Community College in Dover in 1978. It was actually during an internship for her Associate’s degree that she was introduced to EEG, found it intriguing, and proceeded to seek out classes, courses, and opportunities to learn more. As much as she was teacher to so many of us, she was always learning herself as well. Two years ago she enrolled in night classes in Rockford, Illinois to obtain a Bachelor’s degree, with plans to go to graduate school as well. To be honest, I told her that was the craziest thing I ever heard of. I had a hard time imagining her as a Maxine Gray. Linda was a very private person, who shied away from crowds, and was simply not prone to socialize much. She thought I was being too harsh in my assessment of her, but I assured her it was an honest evaluation. We didn’t always agree on things!

Outside of work, Linda was a certified scuba instructor, a defender and lover of all animals, an avid moviegoer (she found the lives of Hollywood stars fascinating), and a shopper (especially on-line). She had a fanciful imagination and was a master storyteller. She had an amazing penchant for details and I loved listening to the tales she could weave mostly over margaritas, made perfectly, “icy, but not too icy, and lots of salt.”

Linda died unexpectedly in her sleep at the home of her sister in Newark, Delaware on August 25, 2005. For the past three years she was afflicted with debilitating atypical facial pain that a year ago rendered her completely unable to do the work she so dearly loved. Ecclesiastes tells us that ” .. . there is a time to live and a time to die …. ” Linda lived generously and painfully and died so quietly and too soon. Her life was filled with professional achievement and she contributed tirelessly for so many years to the education and credentialing of technologists working in hospital operating rooms. She never stopped teaching; she never stopped learning. She experienced nature in its perfect state underwater and in the innocence of animals. She worried me at times, she frustrated me at times, and she made me laugh. I will miss her ways with words, the dreams she shared that never came true for her, the way she giggled, the stories she told, and mostly I will miss the way she ended every phone conversation we had, “Are you still my best friend?” “Yes, Linda, always .”

-Margaret Hawkins, R. EEG/EP T., CNIM
Wausau, Wisconsin

Originally published in:

The Neurodiagnostic Journal, 45: 222–224.
DOI: https://doi.org/10.1080/1086508X.2005.11079539