christmas lights

i bought a christmas tree yesterday with my dad. not because i really wanted a tree, but because i worry that one of these years it might be our last father-daughter christmas tree shopping adventure. and it's become our tradition. my dad pretends to be a scrooge. he pretends to hate christmas. but in reality, he puts up too many christmas lights on the house and buys me any tree i want. and we have fun. he makes a raucous in the lot and complains about the price; i act embarrassed and hide amidst rows of douglas firs - but in reality, i'm proud that my dad is mine and his craziness makes me laugh.

tonight i started to decorate my tree. i'm particular. sparkly white lights must be twirled around each branch. no segment may be left unlit. things were going artfully well when all of a sudden, i started to cry. i imagined my patient's wife decorating a christmas tree ALONE.

my 31 year old patient, one whom i have grown particularly fond of, passed away this morning at 3 AM. his family was at his bedside holding vigil - his wife, his parents, and several aunts and uncles were there. and supposedly it was peaceful and pain-free. but when i came in to work this morning, dale's body was gone. his hospital room was empty. his family had left the building. and i will never see him or them again. this might be one of the weirdest things about my job (and i do some pretty strange stuff) - to become an important part of someones life leading up to their death, to get to know an entire family unit, and all of sudden, just because one member stops breathing, my entire relationship with the family ends right then and there. i will never be a nurse to dale, nor will i ever have the opportunity to support his family who i have grown to love.

i will think of dale often; he was a memorable character. and because we are the exact same age, i can't help but feel a certain guilt and an extra sadness. but tonight, i thought of dale's sweet wife as i decorated my christmas tree with iridescent twinkle lights. tara had to leave the hospital this morning without her husband (her partner of more than 16 years) and tell her 4 year old son and her 6 year old daughter that their daddy is not coming home - that he got too sick and no band-aid could fix his boo-boo. dale's family will soon return on a flight to their hometown. and of course, it's christmas. so tara will have to put a smile on her face, maybe even decorate a christmas tree, and continue living life - for her kids. they need to celebrate christmas. they deserve the twinkle of christmas lights. and stockings full of treats. they need to believe. in something. and i hope they can.