In my former life as a hospital-based, shift-working physician with young children at home, this time of the year inevitably brought the same question from at least a handful of individuals:  “Isn’t it hard on your kids not to have you home on Christmas?”  Thankfully, I was always able to answer truthfully, “no.”  With consistent effort and a no-nonsense attitude, my kiddos either didn’t know the difference because they were so young, or, by the time they got older, it was old hat to celebrate a holiday on a different day.

Pediatric intensive care nurse Alysia Huber recalls a similar situation with her little ones.  “I remember tricking them that Christmas Eve was actually Christmas, and celebrating that morning because I had to work on Christmas [day].  The drive into work on [Christmas] morning was totally empty.  A time I was sad that I was leaving my family, but … grateful that my family was healthy.”

While no one ever wants to see their kid in the hospital, the anxiety level of parents and other family members as the Big Day approached, was palpable.  This occurred on birthdays, the 4th of July, Halloween, and Thanksgiving, as well.  But, Christmas was an even more desperate time.  As a pediatric hospitalist, I relished every opportunity to bring silliness and fun to my patients during this time of the year.  From sporting fuzzy reindeer antlers to donning thick, gold glitter eyeliner to match my red sequined Converse, we all pulled together to make life on the pediatrics unit as anti-antiseptic as we could.

Christmas Eve was an especially important time when working with our patients’ parents.  Pediatric nurse manager Danielle LaFleur fondly recalls enjoying working on that day, “because we got to be Santa’s helpers and put out stockings and presents while the patients were sleeping.  It’s so neat to see them so excited when they see they weren’t forgotten!”  Pediatric nurse Elizabeth Kube lists, “helping parents put … presents in the kids’ rooms on Christmas Eve so when they wake up, they think Santa found them, even though they are in the hospital,” as some of her favorite memories.  Alternatively, Alysia Huber also focuses her efforts on helping parents forget their surroundings.  “I dress my patients in special Christmas PJs and try to make the day as special and cozy as possible.”

While trying to be jolly and filled-with-cheer, there is always the specter of potential tragedy looming in the background.  More than once, I was whipping off those reindeer antlers while rushing to the room of a seizing toddler, or an infant in the middle of an apnea spell.  Early in her 37-year-long career, retired pediatric nurse Barbara Burkhart unbelievably lost three of her young patients during a single 8-hour shift Christmas Day.  “It sounds very unreal, but it happened.  Two were expected, one was someone brought to our [pediatric intensive care unit] from the ED.  I had my own three little kids waiting for me at their grandparents so we could have a family Christmas.  It was very, very difficult to shift gears that day.  I cried in the car all the way to my parents’ house.”

Even with understanding families of our own at home, kids who are too young to know any better, and sharing special moments making our patients’ days as magical as possible, working the holidays can still be hard.  No matter how you justify the good and necessary work you are doing, there always seems to be that little piece missing.  This is especially difficult for those who have their own family members in the patient role at the same time.  Answering the call to care for our patients inevitably prevents us from caring for those we love.  Such is the case this year for pediatric nurse Julie Shaw.  “Past years I could leave work grateful my family was home healthy, happy and able to celebrate at home with loved ones.  This year, I’m … also a daughter of a mother who is suffering and hospitalized during the holiday season.  Caregiving can be tough when you are always the caregiver, and feel the pressure of making the holidays ‘bright’ … for the rest of your family.”

No matter what else was happening with my “real” family, or what was happening on the unit, I could always count on my fellow docs, nurses, and therapists to make the holidays something more than an ordinary day at work.  Between welcoming hoards of well-wishing carolers, perpetual snacking on goodies and treats in the break room, and sneaking peeks of the little ones as they saw Santa stroll into their room with a booming “ho, ho, ho!” it seemed impossible for an hour to go by without smiling.

We were a close-knit family and respiratory therapist Kathy Dieter Nugent remembers, “we all pulled together and made it better for everyone.”  Sometimes, we were surprised by a full meal brought in by a patient’s family with a message of appreciation that went above and beyond simple thanks.  Moments like that really shed light on the fact that we all were caring for each other, in one way or another.  As physician to scared patients, nurse to new parents with a sick baby, or family of a child with a chronic condition who considers the pediatrics unit a home away from home, we were there for each other.  Many times, we may have wished we DIDN’T have to be there for each other … but that was beside the fact.

When you devote yourself to caring for others, the reality of the work you are called to do makes itself known in multiple ways.  From the giggle through tears of a three-year-old who just had an IV placed and is now playing peek-a-boo with a stuffed horse through the bars of her crib, to the hug of a co-worker after speaking to your own three-year-old at home — without you, playing with her new treasures — brings tears to your eyes, you know.  You know the circle will keep going round, with or without you.  But, you’re one of the lucky ones.  You have the privilege every day of making your patients’ lives better, of making their families feel better about the situation at hand.

For every medical professional fighting the good fight this holiday season in a Santa hat, light-up tie, or even in their same old lab coat and hospital-issue scrubs, make no mistake about it.  Your impact is increased exponentially this time of the year.  If you don’t hear it from anyone else, allow me to say it.

Thank you.

Thank you for all you do for your patients and their families.  Thank you for treating your co-workers like family, and making an effort to pull together in solidarity.  Thank you to your own families, who selflessly give up their loved ones during this time when it seems everyone else is at home.  Thank you, happy holidays, and I wish you the very best in the new year.

Juliet B. Ugarte Hopkins is a physician case management adviser.

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