Another Chronic Illness Christmas

Christmas was always my favourite holiday. Growing up my Mom adored Christmas, and her joy for the season was infectious. We had many traditions to look forward to each year, like decorating the tree with ornaments that we received on Christmas Eve, getting new holiday pajamas, stockings that had our names on them and were filled with ‘Santa Gifts’ and presents from Mom and Dad under the tree. Photo byDebby HudsononUnsplash We would watch holiday movies together, and Christmas songs were all that played in our household from December 1st onward. I looked forward to decorating the Christmas tree the way a kid looks forward to going to a candy shop. We would haul out the boxes of ornaments from the basement and reminisce about the meaning behind each one. We would sing songs together and have hot chocolate. We would eagerly anticipate the first gifts being put under the tree and start frantically guessing at what they could be. When I was 18, my Mom was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. She went in for an attempted whipple in December, a surgery that was her only shot at survival. It was unsuccessful and she received a terminal diagnosis. She was given between 3-12 months to live and had to remain in hospital until two days before Christmas. When she arrived home she was still sick and in pain, and we had to grapple with the reality that this would likely be her last holiday season. In a way, that was my first chronic illness Christmas. Only it wasn’t me who was chronically ill. My Mom had always been the one to spearhead our traditions, and that year she was barely able to get out of bed. She certainly couldn’t go out and buy and wrap presents or decorate our Christmas tree. That was the year I became an adult. I was already 18, but had lived a relatively sheltered life up until that point. Watching my Mom suffer and knowing that she was upset to miss out on the Christmas traditions broke me emotionally. It was so unfair. Why was this happening to us? Why was she so sick on her last Christmas? I didn’t have any of the answers, just like I can’t answer why I’m so sick now. What I could do was attempt to bring her as much joy as possible. I could embrace the traditions that meant so much to her and find a way to make them accessible. I spent every penny I had saved over years of part time jobs on Christmas presents. I made sure we each had a special ornament to open on Christmas Eve and new pajamas. I hid presents in my car and brought them inside in the middle of the night so no one would know what I was doing. I played Santa and ‘Mom’ that year, and on Christmas morning I made sure our tree and stockings were as full as they had been in the past. I...

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