‘Twas the night before Christmas, on oncology floor,
Not a creature was stirring, not even ‘resident
dujour.’
Stockings were hung on IV poles with care,
In hopes that St. Nicholas would soon find them
there.

The children were nestled in isolation from all,
While pulse-ox were beeping thoughout the hall.
And Mama in sweats and I with bald head,
Had just settled down on my hospital bed.

When at nurses’ station there rose such a clatter,
I sprang from my bed to see what was the matter.
Mom untangled my central line to be certain,
As I put on my mask and threw back the curtain.

When what to my wondering eyes should appear,
A sterilized wagon and eight nurses were here.
With assistance from Child Life so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment it must be St. Nick.

More rapid than nausea, St. Nick’s helpers came,
As he whistled and shouted and called chemo by name:
“Now Vincristine! Now Cytoxan! Now Methotrexate and
Cytarabine!
On Mercaptopurine! On Doxorubicin! On Thioguanine and
Pegaspargase!

To the end of the unit, through the anteroom wall!
Now cancer away!
Cancer away!
Cancer away, all!”

As pediatric patients watch with wide eyes,
When they meet with obstacles, high as the skies.
Where their childhood wishes can come true,
With faith in doctors and St. Nick too.

And then in a twinkling I heard down the hall,
The nurses were gathering one and all.
As I stuck out my head and was turning around,
Down the hall came St. Nicholas, with a great bound.

He was dressed head to toe in a mask and a gown,
In order to keep microscopic germs down.
A bundle of toys he had in his wagon
Overflowing the sides down the hall he was draggin’.

His eyes – how they twinkled! His cheeks how smitten!
His dimples, his nose, ‘hind the mask they were
hidden!
He had a broad face and a steroid kid’s belly,
That shook when he laughed, like ultrasound jelly.

He spoke not a word, but went straight to work
gifting,
And filled stockings with cure wishes, spirits
lifting.
And laying his finger aside of his nose,
Gave the kids hope with each chemo dose.

Then I heard him call,
As he sprang out of sight,
“Happy Christmas! Cancer Cures all!
And to all a good night.”

By Dawn-mom to cancer fighter, Clayton

Merry Christmas to all-and to all a good night!