The In ‘N Outpatient by Kris Harty

“Bah humbug!”

No one wants to spend Christmas in the hospital. Not staff, patients or visitors. No one wishes to so much as stir there at Christmas, not even a mouse.

My first hospital adventure was 39 years ago, and fortunately, it was the only one involving Christmas.

I was seven years old, and no one knew what was suddenly wrong with me. Admitted on Nov. 1, I wasn’t released until early February. My medical case was followed throughout the hospital. The staff became my temporary family.

In 1971, children weren’t allowed to visit hospitals. Three months was a long time to be away from my three siblings. I was the pesky youngest child so, at first, it had the potential to be a nice mini-break for my older siblings. By the time Christmas arrived, for me, it was simply a miserable, lonely holiday season.

When nurses asked what I wanted for Christmas, I could only mumble my answer. Forget presents, forget front teeth: all I wanted for Christmas was to go home.

I begged my mom and Dr. Hunter, my family doctor, to let me go home, if only for a few hours. That wasn’t going to happen, but Dr. Hunter did what he could. As chief of staff, he pulled some strings and reserved a room for us in a far corner of the hospital. There, in a little room with a Christmas tree, we had our family celebration.

It was the first time my siblings and I had seen each other since I was admitted. I didn’t look like I used to look. My face was swollen from cortisone and my joints were swollen from what we learned was arthritis. I couldn’t move well or leave my wheelchair. It was an awkward re-acquaintance with my siblings and my hospital-phobic dad. Nonetheless, for a couple hours, it quenched the need to be with family, to belong.

As our time came to a close, we said our goodbyes. I was wheeled back to my hospital room.

Christmas dinner was served on my bedside tray. All the usual fixings were there. All that was missing was someone to join me.

That’s when my makeshift family came to the rescue. Each nurse spent time by my bedside, during dinner and throughout the evening. They did what they could to cheer me, to be my family.

A volunteer group created a decoration for each tray. To my seven-year-old eyes, it was the most beautiful little angel I’d ever seen. She kept me company that Christmas season. She has traveled with me through these decades, tucked amongst my Christmas decorations.

That angel is a reminder of how hospital staff become makeshift family to their patients during holidays. She is a reminder of the selflessness your profession demands. You’d rather be home, too, but you’re not. Know that your family at the hospital – coworkers, patients and visitors alike – wouldn’t get through the day without you.

Merry Christmas, and thank you, makeshift family.

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This heartfelt message is an excerpt and adaptation from Kris Harty’s upcoming book. Watch for it in early 2011: “StickPeople:  How to Beat Burnout, Stop Stressing, and Combat Compassion Fatigue; Health Professionals Stick to It – No Matter What!” Kris’ unique perspective and gratitude for healthcare providers inspires them to keep going.  Kris helps healthcare teams, particularly nurses, combat Compassion Fatigue, while helping their managers reduce turnover. Her message is content-rich, relevant, engaging – and sporadically funny. She is a keynote speaker, author and small group facilitator. Kris Harty is the Stickabilities Specialist at Strong Spirit Unlimited. Clients say her message is life changing. If increasing employee engagement is on your agenda for 2011, take a look at your calendar and book Kris now. Call 877.711.STIC(K), e-mail StrongSpirit@StrongSpiritUnlimited.com, or visit  www.StrongSpiritUnlimited.com And remember in these next two weeks, Stick Together with those who make the season bright, and it will be brighter.