Ah, the joy of Christmas. The warm fuzzy feeling people get this time of year. We all know that excitement - be it the giddiness of a child's anticipation of Santa or that feeling of completeness one has when one is with those we hold dear. However, this wonderful time of the year is not immune to times of sadness and difficulties. You see, life, with its ups and downs, continues to happen. The very reason the Christ child needed to be born; Adam's original sin, impacts each of us daily regardless of the time of year. That brings us to why many, including myself, hope for that Christmas miracle.
All is merry and bright for many, but not everyone. At Saint Francis hospital, many are closed up in a small room away from all the parties, shopping and gift giving. Some of us pace that room or roam the hallways with troubled minds. That is where my children and I were a few years ago due to my son's surgery.
Don't get me wrong. We fully appreciate the boughs of holly that are throughout the hospital. Believe it or not, the everyday kindness and pleasantness of the OSF staff are found to be even more abundant at Christmastime. Yet, it seems the difficulties of having a child in the hospital are also intensified at Christmastime.
That season had been true to its miraculous nature. My son, who usually takes a long time to wake from anesthesia, was awake before he came to the PACU and he did not even require extra pain medicine.
Though I rejoiced in this, my mind was still trying to think of a place to take my wheelchair-bound daughter so she could be stretched and attended. The PACU nurse understood and allowed us to use an available gurney in the corner. Soon my son was settled into his room. As the staff did their reporting and preparing with each other, I tried to quickly stow away not only my son's personal items but essentials for my other two handicapped children. The staff had finished with my son for now and my other children were sleeping on the couch and chair in the room. My mind was a wreck as I tried to figure out where and how my children would be able to sleep that night. They both have special needs and I had no one to care for them while I stayed with my nonverbal son. I or another family member had always stayed with the hospitalized child overnight. This time I had no one.
Christmas is a celebration of the birth of our Savior. God gave us the gift of the baby Jesus. That night the gift of Joy entered my son's room. She came in the form of a nurse. Joy was her name and she asked if I needed anything else and somehow I found myself pouring out my heart's concerns, fears, and griefs about our difficulties and especially my fears surrounding this visit to the hospital. Her response was a sincere genuine kinship. Leaving my son without a family member was going to be difficult for him and for me. Yet when I left my son's room that night, I felt a peace about Joy being with him.
The night was more than a little physically and emotionally demanding on my other children and myself as we looked for a place in the hospital to sit and rest until we could go back to the room. We were back into my son's room early. My worries had been for naught.
I was sorry to see Joy leave that morning but so thankful she had been just exactly the kind of nurse we had needed. Joy had been one of the wonderful OSF nurses that we usually encounter at the hospital. Why was she special?
That morning I made quick trips in and out of the hospital to look for "pull-away" warmups. These would be necessary to accommodate the casting of my son's legs. Joy had given me several suggestions the previous night as she listened to my worries over what to have him wear home. Fortunately, a man's pair of "pull-away" pants, for which I was grateful, had been found.
My son was released a couple of days later. Relief and anticipation were nearly overwhelming. It was late in the evening and the weather was burly. My children and I were anxious to get home. As we did the last paperwork, Joy came through the door. As previously, when I first saw Joy, she appeared out of the shadows with a soft smile. This time she had a gift bag. Setting it down on the side table, she turned to walk away. "Wait," I said as I turned away from the discharge nurse. As I looked inside the bag and pulled out a pair of pants, Joy said nothing. Emotions were preventing me from speaking audibly; Joy had taken her day off to purchase pants, dismantle and resew them into a pair of warm pants to accommodate the casting. "Thank you," was all I could manage through my tears of gratitude. Joy smiled and walked out.
I contacted OSF numerous times and through various avenues to find Joy's full name so that I might submit her for the DAISY Award. Each time was in vain. Each department told me they had no Joy working as a nurse during that time or even around that time. I had truly begun to believe she must have been an angel. A real one from God. A Christmas miracle. I could not submit Joy for the DAISY Award without a name so I wrote this story and continued to tell many of my Joy of Christmas.
Then again, a few years later, my son was being admitted to OSF. Both of my wheelchair-bound children had come to the ER that morning. After treatment, my daughter was released. We waited through the day and night for my son's treatment and admission. The next day went enough. However, again the same predicament was looming at me. How would I work out the care of my handicapped children and be available for my nonverbal son? Family House could not help as this visit was not planned and they were full. My son was older and at least he would not be as anxious about being alone for the night.
I was still pondering as the evening shift change was occurring. The night shift nurse came into the room. There in the shadows of the dim light, was Joy with her soft smile!
Had my stress and exhaustion caused me to imagine her? No! Joy was really there. She remembered us, though she probably thought I was crazy as I tentatively spoke to her. I wanted to reach over and touch her to be sure she was there.
After gaining control of most of my emotions, I explained to her the events around why I thought she had been our Christmas angel. She was perplexed as to why her name was not found as she had been at Saint Francis for several years. That night, I did not wander the OSF hallways as in times past. I was able to care for my other children at home an hour away because our Joy, Joy Geer, was caring for my precious son.