By Theseustoo
(Disclaimer: this series of stories is completely fictional and none of the persons, places or institutions in these stories are real, but figments of my own imagination. Any similarity to any real person, place or institution is entirely coincidental.)
Christmas was the most cheerful day of the year at Hell Hospital; or so it seemed on the surface. The cheery smiles, however, often hid severe stresses and tensions which, though always present in the medical profession, were always worse at this time of year… along with the number and severity of road trauma cases. Even so, whatever trauma cases came into the hospital were all greeted with a cheery smile and a hearty, if ironic, “Merry Christmas!” from every staff-member who had anything to do with them; no matter how horrific their injuries.
For some patients, admitted in a semi-conscious, drug-and/or-pain-induced delirium, this was almost enough to put them in the psychiatric ward; all the more so when the staff members wore reindeer antlers, or conical little red hats trimmed with white ‘fur’, or long white wigs and obviously fake ‘Santa’ beards. But it was generally felt that not to make an effort to ‘keep the spirit of Christmas’ would be far too depressing and would lead to patients feeling left out or deprived; especially in the Children’s ward. Everyone, they felt, must make an effort to at least appear cheerful, and for their part, the patients appreciated the effort and responded in kind, by trying to maintain a cheerful front themselves.
In the children’s ward, however, the happiness and good cheer brought by fake ‘Santas’, elves and ‘reindeer’, as well as clowns and fairies (of the gossamer-winged variety) was real enough, in spite of the kiddies’ often heartbreaking illnesses or injuries.
Paula, dressed in a red Santa suit, with a large pillow stuffed under it and wearing a full, fake white beard, was entertaining the kiddies on her electronic organ with all the Christmas songs in her repertoire. “May your days be merryyyyy and briiiiiiiight… And may all your Chrisssst-masses be whiiiiiiiite!” she sang with great feeling, drawing her set to a close by wringing as much emotion as possible out of the final lines of the old Bing Crosby Christmas classic. As the song drew to a close a little girl about seven years of age, who had been listening, completely enthralled, to Paula’s beautiful contralto voice, sighed and with a wistful expression on her pretty, youthful face, and said, “I wish I could have a white Christmas! It would be so wonderful to see real snow!”
It was heartbreaking, thought Paula, who knew that this particular little girl was dying of leukemia; she had consistently failed to respond to chemo-therapy and the nurses all knew that this would be her last Christmas… Paula didn’t know what to say, but knew she had to say something; after all, she was Santa, wasn’t she? She walked over to the little girl’s bed and, gently stroking the blond curls back from her forehead, said, “Well now… that’s a tall order, Emily; no-one can control the weather you know… and this is Australia… But we’ll see what Santa can do, okay?”
***** ******* *****
The staff cafeteria had been decorated with multicolored streamers of crepe paper and tinsel; and above the serving counter sheets of A4 paper, each individually lettered in red capitals, spelled out the words, “MERRY CHRISTMAS”. Strings of Christmas cards, given by various staff-members to each other and collected over the course of years for just this purpose, were strung around the walls. A nativity scene depicting the arrival of the Magi stood on a table in one corner while a small Christmas tree, laden with baubles, tinsel, fairy-lights and little candy-canes, stood on a table in another corner, completing the party atmosphere.
“Just what I need!” thought Paula, ironically “Another bloody Christmas party!”
Still dressed as Santa, she sauntered over to the serving counter, too preoccupied even to chat up Swannee; she merely ordered her lunch quietly and then drifted towards a table. Suddenly she saw a hospital maintenance man sitting at another table and swiftly changed her direction… “G’day, George… mind if I join you?” she said as the beginnings of an idea started to coalesce in the chaos that was her mind.
“All right, what do you want?” George asked, suspiciously; he knew she must want something; nurses just did not associate with maintenance men… they mostly aimed at doctors, though they sometimes settled for male nurses… but they never, ever showed any interest whatsoever in the maintenance staff.
Paula sat down opposite George and said, “George, how old is your granddaughter? About seven isn’t she?”
George’s granddaughter, Amanda was the sunshine of his life and he was so proud of her that he didn’t mind talking about her in the least, even though he still wondered what Paula was after… and what did his granddaughter have to do with it anyway?
Paula reached into her bag and pulled out a box wrapped in Christmas paper and held it up in front of George, “Malibu Barbie…” she said, “For your granddaughter…” Paula had bought the doll for her own niece a couple of weeks ago…
George, swiftly inhaled a lungful of air through pursed lips, raising his eyebrows in surprise; he’d searched all the shops for Malibu Barbie for Amanda, but had been unable to find it in the shops; and had finally had to settle for the latest ‘Bratz’ doll. But he knew that all the little girls at Amanda’s school loved Barbies; and Malibu Barbie was the latest and most popular edition… which was why the shops had all been sold out.
His eyes gleamed greedily as he instantly reached for the doll, but Paula suddenly snatched it away from him, and then, with a seductive smile, said, “George, there’s something I want you to do for me…”
“You got it!” George responded instantly, “Just give me the doll!”
***** ******* *****
St Helvi’s air-conditioning system was notorious; patients who had been there a while often joked about the ‘four seasons in one day’ they sometimes experienced. When it was particularly temperamental the nurses would have to go round the patients covering them all with blankets, kept warm in a heated linen cupboard for that specific purpose… but no-one had ever seen it do anything quite like this before:
As soon as Paula felt the temperature begin to drop, she headed straight for the children’s ward to make sure Emily was covered with a nice warm blanket, knowing that George had put her plan into action… Then she sat on the side of Emily’s bed and put her arm around her to cuddle her while the temperature dropped very severely.
“Ooooh, it’s really cold in here, isn’t it Emily?” She said.
Emily nodded, then Paula added, “Almost cold enough for snow…”
Suddenly, from all the air conditioning vents in the ward, came first little flurries and then small blizzards of frozen white snowflakes. Little Emily’s face lit up and she beamed with a delirious happiness as she clapped her tiny hands and yelled, “It’s snowing! Santa, you made it snow…”
“Well,” Paula said modestly, “I had a little help from the guy upstairs… Merry Christmas sweetheart!”
***** ******* *****

Just got around to this Asty. Christmas is a busy time in our house hold.
Of course if the morgue occupants were singing , I suppose it woould have been castrato instead…boom boom!
I was saddened by the thought of terminally ill children. It’s a stark reminder of real life.
Nurses, including 99% that I have met are all real life Saintas.
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And I meant Saintas.
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Thanks Julian; I don’t normally write such sentimental stuff… but this story had a bitter-sweet quality which I feel quite proud of.
And I KNOW you meant SAINTAS… and I agree wholeheartedly!
🙂
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Irony and pathos! Bitter-indeed. The damage to the air conditioning and the imposition on the other patients of Paula’s helper’s lowering the temperature when no-one was prepared, when no-one else maybe wanted snow, least of all expected it, but yes, to frolic on a beach on a hot Australian Xmas day. Sweeet-blimey. The good heart of Paula helping make a little girl’s last perhaps Christmas wish come true. Awesome yarn.
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Good to see a Christmas edition T2.
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Thanks Voice; nice to know you enjoyed it!
🙂
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It snowed in Orange one Christmas morning. It was along time ago, 59 or 60 and I remember being completely unsurprised at the event. It simply didn’t occur to my young self that snow in Orange in the middle of summer was unusual. After all nearly every Christmas card included snow.
It was all gone by the time we sat down to lunch on what became a steamy warm afternoon. Haven’t thought about that in years.
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I’ve had many ‘white Christmases’ Warrigal; but I’ve never had an ‘Orange’ Christmas!
😉
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Well Elvis had a “Blue Christmas” and the “Black Christmas” fires burned in the Lane Cove Park just a short way from us but I’m certain that was the only “White Christmas” that coincided with an Orange Christmas.
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An ‘Orange White Christmas’ must really be something special, Wazza; I envy you! (Not that I’m longing for snow, mind you; FAR too cold!)
🙂
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The gifts that Santa is holding up; what are they?
The top one is either a meat mincer or perhaps a pasta maker.
Nice story Asty!
We also had a heart warming total of 73 mls of soaking rain. The best rain for a long time. Should we all break out in a wild rain dance? Possibly in the nude?
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It’s a bit hard to tell what the present is that Santa’s holding up Gez, but it looks suspisciously like an old-fashioned meat-mincer… My God! You don’t think he’s going to put that baby through the mincer do you? That’s not Santa at all! It’s an evil child-eating Santa marionette from an alien planet… maybe a ‘V’ Santa?
Glad to hear you had a good rain Gerard… dance if you must but if you’re taking any photos for we piglets, please keep at least some clothes on… okay?
Glad you liked the story, anyway!
🙂
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Oh, dear!
This Paula nurse is a bit of a myth menace, isn’t she?
Santa did it with the help of a man upstairs?
Oh dear!
Time you got Paula to read some Unleashed, Asty.
But a good little read nevertheless… next time she goes downstairs and consults the boiler maker, right? Fills the hospital up with CO2 and such like devilish gases.
Cheers to ya all!
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The ‘man upstairs’ was George, the maintenance man, atomou.
I realize that this story is perhaps more ‘pro-the Santa-myth’ than my recent posts on ‘Unleashed’ would suggest; but as I was asked to donate a Christmas story and my next episode of HH was overdue I thought I’d ‘kill two birds with one stone’. And it’s not as if I have a ‘real’ Santa; Paula is a very obvious ‘fake’.
And apart from anything else, at least I do always start my HH stories with a disclaimer; there is no doubt that they are fictional and this protects me from accusations of hypocrisy. You do have a point though, that Paula’s ‘menace’ is perhaps a bit mythical thus far; I’ll have to get her to organize some real chaos for us next story…
Glad you enjoyed it anyway, though.
😉
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Malibu Barbie, I am envious
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Okay Hung… I’ll get you a Malibu Barbie for your birthday, okay?
😉
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You’re on dude
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This Santa looks even more serious than Jules’ one on the Dot; he looks more like a bishop to me. I suppose people were a little scared of cameras in those days.
Paula for sure is a good woman, I was starting to feel sorry for the little Emily; Amanda was going to be happy too…
asty, do you have a little granddaughter tucked away somewhere?
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I do, Helvi… an eight-year-old sweetheart by the name of Lavinnia, who is thankfully in good health.
She tells me she even posted a reply to ‘Primate Allegations’ but I haven’t found it yet… can’t help wondering if it was ‘bounced’ for some reason or other…
Glad you liked the story Helvi.
🙂
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Well, T2, I received a comment from Lavinnia, and because I am a gentleman, I invited her to supply us with a “superior” example of her own, in the event that she might find “I’m an Apeman” not of a type of music she might appreciate…… are you drifting with me here ?
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Sorry Emmjay, but I’m not really catching your drift; I referred her to the ‘Apeman’ link myself exactly because I thought she would enjoy the song and also get a giggle out of the picture.
Lavinnia tells me she enjoyed the song… but said nothing of an invite to send in a song of her own…
I thought at first that perhaps she may not have clicked the ‘submit’ button correctly, but her mum tells me she’s ‘really good at that sort of thing’…
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When I read the comment it did not seem to me to be a very flattering or kind response in my opinion, T2. So I held it, pending a response to my invitation. Not knowing who Lavinnia is, I was not keen to approve a post that was neither kind nor constructively critical from a stranger to the Pig’s.
We almost never receive unkind comments – even when they might be in jest. After a while, I simply deleted it.
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Oh… I see… 8-year-olds can certainly be blunt, I suppose. Sorry to be so obtuse, Emmjay.
🙂
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