Twas the night before Christmas, the ED was quiet,
Not a creature was stirring, there wasn’t even a riot.
The patients slept soundly, so snug in their cots,
With some having dreams of free vodka shots.
When out rang a noise, the silence was broke,
“A priority one is incoming,” it spoke.
The voice on the phone was all crackled and manic,
Our poor EMS seemed to be in a panic.
The report filtered in and I soon became hot,
As responders reported that Santa’s been shot.
They rushed in Saint Nick still smiling his greeting:
“Oh no! Ho-ho-ho I am certainly bleeding!”
We stripped him and flipped him to find bullet holes.
Our tasks were quite clear: accomplish our goals.
I acted quite quickly and did ABC’s,
Looking him over from red hat to knees.
A hole in the leg and the belly and chest,
Such violence to Santa was hard to digest!
His cap had been shot, the slug count to four,
Its white fluffy ball fell off to the floor.
I did a quick rectal and to my surprise,
Amazing the sight I beheld with my eyes,
I pulled out my finger and felt at a loss,
For it now was covered with rich chocolate sauce.
We threw in a chest tube and I went insane,
The tube changed right there into sweet candy cane!
The nurses inserted the Foley agog,
And from his new catheter poured some eggnog.
His pressure came down; his heart rate did too,
And then it occurred to me just what to do.
“This man is of magic and candy and dreams,
Perhaps we should try some ulterior means.”
I opened D50, the strongest we had,
And to that container we started to add:
Our dreams and our hopes, strong coffee as well,
More sugar, some glitter and the sound of a bell.
We poured our concoction right into his heart.
And all we could hope was that magic would start.
At first there was nothing, and then just a blip,
He stirred, then he fluttered and then he did grip.
He yanked out the cane that I’d thrust in his side,
He crunched off a bite and he took it in stride.
The chest hole now healed, the abdomen too,
He yanked out his Foley and winked at our crew.
Now off from the bed, he sprung like a lemur,
Despite on the X-ray he’d broken his femur.
That magical elf had healed himself true,
He ran out the door saying, “Got work to do.”
Then quickly I woke, from my dark working desk,
I’d fallen asleep, quite lacking in rest.
“It all was a dream,” I said, wiping my eyes,
But something seemed odd, and to my surprise,
I saw something white that fell to my lap,
The perfect round puff-ball from kind Santa’s hat.
I ran outside hearing, as he flew out of sight,
“Merry Christmas to all, and to all a safe night!”