On Christmas in the hospital

The last time I celebrated Christmas anywhere but North Hatley, it was 1984 when we spent Christmas with Margo, Chris and wee baby Louise. Before that, it was 1976 when as per then tradition, we spent Christmas with Granny and Grandpa M. in Westmount. As you may imagine, celebrating Christmas in the hospital was somewhat sad in comparison. 

By dint of applying a certain amount of hard headed logic and guilt trips, I managed to disabuse Philip of the notion that family members in North Hatley might opt out of coming into Montreal to see me. It would have been the usual suspects plus support staff.

I, or more accurately, my physio acting on my behalf, had secured the use of a conference room which had enough plugs for the toaster and the induction hot plate and a large table. It also had an easel pad on which Margaret drew a Christmas tree with some markers she found. Other people, your humble correspondent included, drew Christmas tree ornaments on post-it notes.

Kidney stews (yes, plural) were put on the hotplate to warm up while we opened stocking presents. Then it was braid, toast and kidney stews, one made with beef kidneys and the other with lamb kidneys. Then it was time for the “tree” presents. 

By the end of it, I noticed that I had less and less desire to say anything which I interpreted as being tired. One of the blasted problems with having been hospitalized for so long is that I get tired too easily. Goodbyes were said, before Mummy and Dominique helped me take things back to my room.