Every morning on my way to work I listen to Bob and Sheri on the radio. I absolutely love them!! This past week they have dedicated the chat room to the topic “Going home for Christmas.” They have been asking people to call in with a childhood memory that relates to “going home for Christmas”.  Isn’t it amazing how some memories stick in your mind like they happened yesterday, yet things you actually did yesterday are just gone forever…  I, like you, have many childhood Christmas memories. As you age, and especially if you become a parent, you just see the world a little differently. You want to create memories for your kids that will last a lifetime. Here is one of mine…

When I was 8 years old I had gotten strep throat. Most kids get it. If you ever had it you know how nasty and uncomfortable it can be. Ten days on antibiotics and you are good to go. Not with me. We don’t know exactly what the problem was… We don’t know if the dose of antibiotics was too small or if I had somehow built up a tolerance to them… My strep throat never went away. It developed into Rheumatic Fever which was a very different story. If you don’t know, strep throat left untreated can have serious consequences. It leads to Rheumatic fever, which can leave you with a heart condition.  I spent a good year in and out of the hospital, more in than out. During one of my stays in the hospital I contracted Mono. The combination of the two was pretty bad. My weight had dropped below 35 pounds. (My son Turner is 8 years old, thin as a rail, and  weighs 45 pounds. When I look at him I can’t imagine ten pounds off his little body). I missed all of second grade but somehow managed to pass.  This was back in the days when schools didn’t send a tutor to the house, or really care if a student was there or not. I remember my mother going to Meagher School every day to get my new class work and to return the previous days work. I also remember that I slept A LOT. At one point, I was sent home from the hospital and my parents had to get a “doctor scale” for the house. I had to be weighed every morning before breakfast and my mother had to log my weight in this little book. I hated that book! If my weight went below 35 lbs I had to go back into the hospital. I quickly learned how to work the system. I would stuff my socks with marbles before going to get weighed. I was convinced it was what kept me out of the hospital. In early December of that year I had gotten so weak that I wasn’t able to walk. I remember my mother carrying me into the Benedictine Hospital where I would spend the rest of the month, and inevidently, Christmas. Visiting hours were over at 8:00pm… even on Christmas Eve. When my family left, the nurses came and got me and brought me to the nurses station in my wheelchair. I was the only patient on the floor. We made crafts together and had cookies. I still remember exactly what we made. Snowflakes on fancy white paper and one nurse made me a cardboard Christmas tree that had 6 sides and stood up straight. We all colored it and made little tiny ornaments out of tissue paper to put on our little tree. I must have fallen asleep at the nurses station because I don’t remember them bringing me back to my room or going to bed. I remember waking up the next morning in bed and having four new stuffed animals that Santa had left for me during the night. I had a lot of company that day… mostly doctors and nurses. Looking back I think they were either bored or they felt sorry for me being the only kid on the entire floor. Probably a little bit of both.  My parents had a house full of extended family over for Christmas, our typical holiday gathering. When my parents and brother came to see me that night they told me Santa had come, but I had to wait until I got home to open my presents. They brought me one present to open and I still remember it. It was a little baby doll, maybe 4 inches tall. It came with a little swing and two baby bottles, one that was white (milk) and one that was orange (juice). Two days later I went home. My father carried me into the house, up the stairs and into the living room in front of the tree. The tree was all lit up, and under the tree were all the gifts… still wrapped. They waited for me. I had no idea that they postponed Christmas until I had gotten home. Not even my brother, who could be pretty fresh, had said a word.

As an adult and a mother, I wish I knew the names of the nurses who were so kind, and took such good care of me. I would love to just say thank you. Nurses really are amazing human beings.

(side note; I did develop a heart condition from the Rheumatic fever. I had a rough year in my early 20’s, but was incredibly lucky and blessed to have responded to the treatments. For the rest of my life I have to be really careful. I have to be premedicated for any and all dental work or medical procedures, and I have to go on antibiotics for ten days if I get cut badly or get a puncture wound. Who knew strep throat could lead to that?!)