As we approach Christmas 2009, I reflect back on Christmas’ past. Some are more memorable than others. In the above blog I wrote about a Christmas Eve 1984 miracle I experienced in saving a man’s life after he suffered a stroke. Having suffered one myself in October of 2008 made me appreciate all the more the miracle of modern medicine and the power of prayer.
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This blog refers to Christmas Eve 1989. The excitement and anticipation of another Christmas with Terri and my boys was growing throughout the season. Except this year, we had the addition of a new baby. Cory was born in March of this year. And as we experienced with both James and Kyle during their first Christmas. The joy and excitement showing in their faces as they see the lights on the Christmas tree and all of the colorful paper, and ribbons, and bows on the many gifts under the tree. But even during their earliest Christmas, we introduced the boys to the true meaning and reason for Christmas. They were read the Christmas Story according to the book of St. Luke from the Bible. And they were shown the Nativity Scene we had assembled on our mantel. It was always so cute when they would point to the various members of the HOLY FAMILY with their chubby little fingers to the Baby Jesus, and Jesus’ Mommy and Daddy. I looked forward to introducing Cory to the ritual and tradition of our baby’s first Christmas. Unfortunately, Cory’s introduction to this tradition was held away from home on his first Christmas in a setting that for me was very scarey.
On the morning of Christmas Eve 1989, Cory woke as normal around 9:00 am with a cry. I was in the living room with Kyle, as usual, sitting on my lap with a book in hand. Terri went up and retrieved Cory from his crib. She brought him down the stairs clutching him tightly swaddling him in his blanket. I could see a look of concern on her face as she sat with the baby on the couch. “Whats wrong?” I asked. Terri replied, “He’s burning up with a fever.” I was not that concerned at first, as the boys would spike a little fever with no warning due to a cold or ear infection. Both James and Kyle were experts at spiking fevers in a moment’s notice, scaring us on a regular basis. Just about everytime we would contact their pediatrician who would diagnose an ear infection, prescribe amoxicillin (bubblegum medicine) and children’s Tylenol to contol the fever. I figured this same routine would take place. But prior to calling the doctor, I wanted to get his temperature. We changed his diaper and I became much more concerned because the heat from his little body was much more than I ever remember from either of the other two boys. I carefully took his temperature rectally to get the most accurate reading. 104.5o ....
Oh, my God. I struggled to remain calm as I held Cory’s limp little body in my arms. I gave him the prescribed dose of Tylenol hoping that within a short time his temperature would start to decline. I told Terri to call the Doctor as I tried to get Cory to drink some cooled Pedialite from his bottle. He acted like he was thirsty and hungry, but didn’t want to have anything to do with the bottle. He cried as I rocked him in my arms. I was scared, but I didn’t want to let on to Terri that I was scared. Once she got through to the doctor’s answering service, she was told that our pediatrician was not on call for the holidays., but was given the phone number for the doctor on-call. She managed to get a hold of this doctor who immediately told Terri to meet him at his office as soon as possible with the baby. I helped her dress little Cory for his visit to the Doctor’s Office. Both James and Kyle, not knowing exactly what was going on, were aware that something was wrong with their baby brother. AS Terri prepared to leave, Kyle began to cry. I picked him up and held him by the front window as we waved to Mommy and Cory as they backed out of the driveway. When I put Kyle down, he immediately retrieved one of his Christmas story books and brought it to me to read to him. He climbed onto my lap with his book and jabbered something to me. I held him tightly in my arms rocking him in my chair as I read to him my favorite part from “A Charlie Brown Christmas”. I read to him the part when little Linus stood alone on the stage and recited the Christmas Story explaining to Charlie Brown what Christmas was all about. I read to him with tears in my eyes concerned about our little baby. Kyle reached his chubby little hand up to my cheek and wiped away the tears streaming down my cheek. He jabbered something to me again, I think he was trying to comfort me as much as a three-year old could try. I held him tightly kissing him on the forehead. James stood next to my chair watching this unfold in front of him, confused as to why Daddy was crying. He lightly rubbed my arm also trying to comfort me.....
Then the phone rang. Answering it quickly I heard Terri. It sounded as if she was crying as she told me that the doctor was having Cory admitted to the hospital for observation and testing. I got the boys dressed as quickly as I could, loaded them in the van and met her at the hospital with our sick little boy. We were escourted to the pediatric ward on the fourth floor. The bed they had assigned to Cory was outfitted with an oxygen tent. Terri changed Cory’s diaper and dressed him in his hospital gown and laid him in the bed. He cried, scared of what was happening around him a nurse was preparing two bags of saline solution and piggybacked a smaller bag of a strong liquid antibiotic that would be administered though an IV. I had seen IV’s started many times on patients in my line of work. but having to hold down your own baby as needles were stuck in his tiny little arms to administer the medication as he screamed, looking at me with those pleading little eyes to make them stop hurting him. I cried as he did as the IVs were being established. They took several vials of blood at that time and several more times throughout his stay in the hospital. ....
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With the current trauma of getting him settled Terri prepared to take James and Kyle home as I was prepared to stay the night at Cory’s bedside.As the boys came to me to kiss me goodbye. I picked them up to say their goodbyes to Cory and tried to explain what had taken place and why their little brother was crying, tryin to explain that he was mostly scared and that we were not really hurting him. I’m not sure that I convinced them, but it seemed like they shared our concern for their little brother. They both leaned into the tented bed and kissed their baby brother goodbye. I cried as they did this not knowing if this could possibly be their final goodbye to their baby brother.....
About an hour after Terri left with the boys the doctor came into the room with a stack of papers , results from the initial tests that had been done earlier that day. The results indicated that Cory had a severe “blood infection”, cause unknown. He was on the verge of having a pneumonia. And more medication was going to be administered through his IVs. More blood was taken for followup tests. I hated having to hold his chubby little arm still as the technician stuck him with the hypodermic needle to draw the blood. He struggle and tried to pull his little arm out of my grasp, screaming all the while. I tried to comfort him the best I could as the needle was driven into his tiny little vein to withdraw the blood. The technician laughed about how strong Cory was as we both struggled to keep him still during the procedure. A chest x-ray was also ordered and the radiologist brought a portable x-ray unit into Cory’s room I asked to hold him to get him to stop crying before they started with the x-rays. They brought in a bottle of formula so I could feed him. This settled him down enough to allow the x-rays to be taken. They showed a slight amount of congestion in the upper lobes of both lungs. This brought in more people (respiratory therapists) to his room, causing more confusion and anxiety for Cory. He was to have respiratory therapy every three hours. Every four hours they came in to his room to draw more blood. This went on throughout the night. The nurse brought in a cot for me to sleep on next to his bed. I sat in a rocking chair giving Cory his 11:00 feeding. I rocked him as he quietly dozed watching the 11:00 news. AS the weather came on the local weather reporter showed the weather radar which showed an unusual blip on the radar screen heading south over Lake Erie from the Canadian shoreline. It was the first indication that Santa Claus was on his way. As he spoke about Santa’s impending arrival in our area of northern Ohio, I clutched Cory tightly to my chest and sobbed, not knowing if my baby boy would survive the night. Would this most wonderful holiday forever be a remembrance for the death of a baby boy instead of a celebration of one’s birth? Oh how alone I felt. A nurse passing by the room looked in and saw me crying she came in and took Cory from me and placed him gently back in his bed. She then turned to me and we talked for a long time. All the while she had her hand on my arm comforting me, telling me that Cory was stable and now appeared to be coming out of danger. His white blood cell count was dropping significantly according to her indicating that the infection was successfully being treated by the medication.....
After she left the room, I kissed Cory on the forehead and wished him a Merry Christmas and Good night. I laid down on the cot and fell asleep. It was shortly after 1:00 am when I heard the door to our room open. I reached over to the night stand next to my cot for my glasses thinking that the phlebotomist was in to draw more blood. To my surprise I saw entering the room was Santa Clause! I mean what to my wondering eyes should appear but, Old St. Nick himself. I laid quietly as I watched the old gentleman walk silently across the room. He unzipped the wall of the oxygen tent and stood lightly rubbing Cory on the back as I heard him say, “Honey, Santa would never forget your first Christmas.” He reached into his bag and pulled out a stuff animal and placed it in Cory’s bed next to him. He stood next to his bed after zipping the oxygen ten shut lowered his head and folded his hands and said a little prayer. He gave himself the sign of the cross and quietly walked out of the room. I laid there, not sure of what I had just seen. Did I dream this wonderful sequence of events or did it happen? I got out of bed and checked on Cory, he was sleeping soundly and laying next to him in the corner of his bed was a small stuffed animal, a dog with a Christmas ribbon tied around its neck. Just then I heard the door open again, turning around I saw Santa again at the door. He raised a finger and said to me, “Dad, No one is supposed to see Santa Claus on Christmas Eve. Merry Christmas and God bless you and that beautiful little boy!” I stood with my mouth open for what seemed like several minutes not knowing what to say or do after he walked down the hallway and away. I sat back on the cot and again cried. Here was a man who took time out of his late night to dress up as Santa Clause and deliver presents to sick children confined to the hospital not knowing if he would be seen or not. But I saw him and he spoke to me on Christmas Eve. Here was a man who made me feel a lot better and gave me a new sense of hope that Cory was going to be okay. I drifted back off to sleep when around 3:00 am the door opened, the lights came on, and several people entered the room. More blood to be drawn, respiratory therapy to be given and a new bag of medication to be replaced with the IV solutions. I sat on the edge of the cot and reached for my glasses, and next to them was a candy cane with a note attached to it by a green ribbon. The note said, “And Dad, Santa didn’t forget you either. Merry Christmas! Love Santa”,....
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I stood next to Cory’s bed with the gift in hand reading the note crying softly. One of the nurse came to my side and put her arm around my shoulder, saying that Cory was going to be all right. I showed her the note, and she smiled squeezing my arm.....
For any of you who have seen the movie Polar Express, the whole emphasis of the movie is to believe. Believe in Santa Clause, believe in the miracles of Christmas, believe in the wonders of this glorious season, and believe in the wondrous birth of the baby in the manger. I can tell you that “I BELIEVE!” Cory, of course, recovered with no residual affects from his illness. Every Christmas when I reflect on that one very special night in the hospital and even now as I put these words to print, I can’t help but become emotional, tearing up and crying as I remember how one man made a difference in my life on that lonely Christmas Eve in 1989.....
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