Christmas morning is slowing approaching and this year I can't help but be heavy hearted, a little blue, and feel somewhat bitter sweet. I sit here and think of the years that have passed and the years yet to come and I want to cling on to those memories for as long as I can.
When I open my eyes and put my feet on the ground Thursday morning, I will not look out of my window for a snowy winter wonderland. I will not be sneaking down the stairs to take a peak at the presents that Santa left unwrapped, before waking my parents up. I will not be digging through my stocking full of goodies to pull out the one lone orange that my mom always made sure to put in our stockings, that I never ate. I will not get to hand out everyone's gifts from underneath the tree, as if I worked for the Christmas Tree Post Office. Calling out the names on the tags and stretching as far as I could to hand them all out like I used to do for many years. Riding around singing and listening to Christmas music, quoting my uncle as we look at the beautiful lights around my small little hometown, saying "ooh ahh" to the prettiest lights, is out of the question for us this year.
My husband will not be waking me up to breakfast in bed with sweet maple bacon, Christmas pancakes, and the aroma of caramel drizzled coffee to perk up my morning. I will not be seeing the twinkle and pride in my husbands eyes as he hands me the presents that he purchased for me over a month ago. Watching me rip through his neatly wrapped packages with enough tape to be Fort Knox approved. Laughing at his silly gifts wrapped in albuterol and tampon boxes. I will not get the joy of seeing his reactions to his gifts as he opens them one by one after I do, like I am used to doing. We will not be getting ready to visit our families to share in holiday spirit. Making sure we match enough to be cute but not so much to make people sick with our cuteness and love for one another.
There will not be the traditional Christmas photo of me and Santa Claus, and if you didn't know my father is actually the real deal. Listening to my mom tell the story of these pictures as she always says "They have one from every year". As if she is still shocked by this tradition my father and I keep. Photos of all of us sitting by a beautifully decorated tree, stuffing our faces full of Italian food, and spending time with one another. This year even the sugar cookies missed us as my mother couldn't bring herself to make them without our annual cookie party.
These are the things I will not have this holiday season. Instead what I will see this year as I open my eyes on Christmas morn, will be a dark and drewy hospital room, nurse's and doctor's in yellow paper gowns with emotionless faces covered by a thin blue mask. The smell of stale air, rubbing alcohol and latex gloves will fill my room. I will be awakened by an annoying intern coming in after I finally fall asleep, just to wake me up, make me sit up, listen to my lungs, and ask if I am breathing ok. I will be sent up rubber flavorless pancakes and burnt coffee, by a disgruntled hospital worker who just wants to be home with family of their own. Antibiotics will be ran every other hour and medications given constantly. I wil be forced to stay on my floor for the fear of "cross cantamination" if I mingle outside of my room. Making it more of a prison cell than anything else to be honest. Respiratory techs will be in and out with smiles and heart felt words as they know I do not want to be here. Doctors will come in almost like drones just repeating the motions that they do every day. As I lay in my bed sadly knowing it may be Christmas outside of this building but inside with me it is sadly another day in the life of the terminally ill woman.
Of course, my family will be here with bells on, my mom even mentioned a small tree. Lord knows that would be interesting to see, but I have painted Easter eggs in here before so why not! They will bring me dinner, gifts, and love. Sitting by my side and trying as hard as they can to make it seem like I am not in hell. To make it feel like Christmas for all of us as if I wasn't hooked up to oxygen and an IV pole. It will be a Christmas we will all remember, but not because of how great it is. Not because we were able to enjoy the winter weather and sip hot chocolate together.
It will be remembered as the Christmas where Sandi was stuck in the hospital and we had to put together a make-shift holiday and a fast change of plans as we all thought I would be home.
The good thing about it once you dig down deep for one,is that I will not be alone. I will have my family and yes, things had to change in order to make that happen, but they will be here. It is times like these that the reason for the season is most important. Giving of ones self and support is truly what I need this Christmas. I know I am loved and time with my family, no matter where it is spent is precious time that should always be cherished.
Just remember no matter where you are. No matter the situation be thankful for what you do have. The situation can always be worse, changed, and different at the drop of a hat.
Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays,
Sandi
Follow my CF page on Facebook!
