About Movie

"Wasn't it hard to spend Christmas in the hospital?"

She had just finished reading my story and I guess the story prompted thoughts of the approaching holiday.

CHRISTMAS IN A HOSPITAL might make a good title for an inspirational story or a heartwarming Hallmark movie, but it wouldn't be my choice for personal experience. I didn't choose permanent paralysis as a Christmas gift. Intensive Care wasn't the ideal backdrop for an idyllic Christmas memory. Stockings hing on the IV pole with care didn't fit the warm, cozy image.

In real life, Christmas in the hospital was terrifying and lonely and incredibly sad. Decorations draped on beeping monitors in a sterile room provide a poor substitute for stockings hung on the mantle. Doctors and hourly vital signs can't replace the joyous chaos of kids flitting from new toy to new toy.

The Night Before Christmas loses most of its rich imagery in the context of medical equipment and nurses wearing Santa hats. In place of a magical sleigh and eight tiny reindeer, that Christmas Eve brought claustrophobia in an MRI machine and fears of advancing infection.

But Christmas isn't all about gifts and decorations and feasts. As much as we all cherish our particular family traditions, Christmas is a time when life softens a bit. Apart from the mad rush of shopping and travel and preparation, Christmas affords an opportunity to focus, however briefly, on what truly matters to us. Family and friends, love and peace, health and joy-these remain long after lights fade and gifts are forgotten.

That's how I recall my Christmas in ICU. In the midst of fear and pain, I discovered that Christmas really does involve something deeper and more lasting than tinsel and toys. I discovered a connection to a child born thousands of years ago in troubled circumstances. I learned something important about authentic hope from a horrible experience.

Hospitals, hospices, prisons, and rehab centers don't close for Christmas. Overwhelming financial uncertainty doesn't recognize holidays. Loneliness and depression don't take a week off. But hope lives on as well.

That's my message. That's why I chose to share such a difficult, painful, and personal story.

For all those who spend this Christmas in difficult situations, I wish a special sense of hope. I pray that they'll experience the true meaning of Christmas. I pray that they'll be touched by the baby whose birth in the center of turmoil signaled glad tidings of great joy for all of us.