Ho, Ho, Oh Shit

Memorable Christmas Eve tonight...

My family has a wonderful tradition--I don't think we invented it, but we've been doing it since I was a kid--about Christmas Eve dinner. Everyone brings a small hors doerve, and that's the meal. The little ones make easy little kid food (ham and cream cheese, teeny weenies) and adults bring bigger stuff. My grandfather, may he rest in peace, used to open the pickles. He was a man's man...didn't do the cooking stuff...so that was his contribution. I've always loved that tradition...eat all of our contributions (one gift), then open presents (the other gift).

We gathered at my parents' place late this afternoon to settle in, enjoy the food, and open the presents. My eight-year-old nephew planned on playing piano for us, and I was stoked to see my three-year-old niece's reaction to the positively massive pink stuffed My Pretty Pony we got her. This was going to be a good one.

My dad didn't feel right all night, and just as we were getting our foods out and setting up the gifts below the tree, the chest pains were too big to ignore. Allergies, Dad? "I don't know." Should we call 911? "I don't know." My mom said that that meant, yes, we should call 911.

This is where my family swings into action.

When my dad had his massive "widowmaker" heart attack two years ago, I was impressed with the way my family hunkered down. Dad was in a drug-induced coma for 17 days, and his survival was by no means certain. My kid sister flew in from DC, and so all four kids and Mom--along with the spouses and my then-girlfriend, now spouse--hung out together for almost all of those days. We essentially moved into a little alcove next to my Dad's ICU room, where we cracked jokes and did crossword puzzles. We were there so much that hospital staff actually started forwarding our phone calls to us in there. We didn't just lean on each other for strength...I think we actually strengthened each other, which is different (and better). At one point, I told a friend of mine: "We really came together. I guess all families do that." His response: "No they don't. Some families explode." He's right. I'm thankful we can come together so effectively and smoothly.

Tonight? My doctor brother-in-law took Dad's pulse. Three of my siblings and in-laws watched over the five kids. I ran out to flag down the fire truck and the ambulance. I made sure to sit with my mom, who has astonishing strength even at the moment of crisis. As the paramedics questioned my dad, it was, needless to say, scary, after all we went through that awful summer and fall of 2003. Dad said the pain was similar to how he felt then.

Since they don't let family in the ambulance, somebody had to take my Mom to the hospital, and that fell to my wife and I, since we don't have kids. The situation was already traumatic enough for the kids--even though they had been shuttled into the other room for the scary part, they still would have trouble having Grandpa and Grandma so suddenly removed from Christmas. They needed their parents to stay. They needed to eat and open presents.

So Dad's trip to the hospital pre-empted the normal Christmas Eve activities for me, my wife, my mom, and (of course) him...but the kids were spared as much as possible.

The good news? Although my dad is staying the night at the hospital, he feels a lot better, and his numbers are all about where they should be. He's sort of embarrassed--he kept apologizing for messing Christmas up. "Tell David I'm sorry I'll miss his recital...You three should head back to the house to get there for gifts if you can..." I complain about my Dad sometimes (as we all do about our parents...), but man, I love him. He's a great guy.

Christmas Eve meal? Unsure of how long we'd need to stay at the hospital, my wife and I had sandwiches in the hospital cafeteria. The funny thing is that I wasn't feeling too bad at this point...with my dad feeling better, it was all okay and not at all depressing. At least I wasn't the drug addict in the cot outside my dad's ER room, refusing to sign a release and cussing at doctors to the point where they told her to shut up before they called the cops in. My wife and I agreed that our first Christmas Eve together would, if nothing else, be quite memorable.

As soon as Dad was in his ICU room, we took Mom back home. By then, festivities were long over--the house was empty. ("We left your presents in a bag by the door," my sister said earlier, inadvertently and innocently uttering one of the most depressing statements in yuletide history.) That left me, my mom, and my wife to take care of the rest of the food...so we got to eat the good food after all. I was expecting to have to leave, but we wound up chatting about everything and nothing for three hours...our jobs, old times, whatever...keeping our minds off of earlier events. It seems clear that Dad is okay, so it felt like a winding down.

It was a fairly rough evening--I'm glad my wife drove tonight, as I was probably too distraught to be the one to drive my mom to the hospital--so we decided not to go to midnight services as we planned. That's for the best, I think--as soon as I left my parents' house at 11:00 Christmas Eve, I suddenly noticed how emotionally exhausted I was. I think, given that, God will give us an excused absence from Christmas services this year.

We've saved our presents both to and from my parents, and will open them together on Monday. I'm excited about that. After all, there's a finite number of times we get to do that together.

It feels a little like we just skipped Christmas Eve this year...but it's all right. Dad is okay, and I am blessed by a wife and family who can get me through even a night like tonight.

Merry Christmas, y'all.