Christmas time in San Francisco...

Parties, Christmas Cards, 7 Long, and Maine

The holiday season turned out to be pretty busy so I ran out of time for updates... here is a look back at the past few weeks! Happy New Year everyone! 

Pre-Santa Con Brunch! 

Bagels, ham, strata... the pic really doesn't do it justice for the amount of food!

Plus a mimosa and bloody mary bar... my phone was the music source and my camera was out of battery so I apologize for the lack of pictures!

There are a few pics from the party its self... 

mostly centering around my Tutu from Anthropologie... unfortunately it might be sold out. 

I laughed too hard and popped the clasp off the back, so naturally pulled out my needle and thread and sewed it back on.  

Christmas Cards... 

This was the first Christmas Card I sent out by myself and so I felt like I wanted to say more then just Happy Holidays... here is what I came up with.

*Warning this is long and pretty sappy, I am so sorry, and I promise to not do this every year, feel free to skip to the last paragraph...

Dear Friends and Family,

It has been five years since I packed up my little Ford Focus and drove across country to “live my dream”.  And live it I have.  In the past five years I have been so lucky to have met the most generous, original, hilarious, kind, smart, determined, and adventurous people that have accepted me (high heels, oversized suitcases, tardiness, and all) into their life.  With them I have traveled to Mexico, Lake Powell, Chicago, Sun Valley, up and down the California coast, Bali, etc.  I have celebrated their engagements, weddings, parenthood, graduations, and career changes.  With a heavy heart I witnessed too many of them deal with the loss of a parent and other loved ones with a grace and strength that left me in awe.  

I also, have been so blessed to work on 7 Long at UCSF... it is here that I met most of my wonderful friends and it is here that I have gained the experience and confidence to be a nurse I can be proud of.  I don’t think I could have ever prepared myself for the amount I would learn; not only about medicine, the human body, cancer, the importance of a strong nurse and advocate, and the brilliance needed by the doctors to develop a treatment plan and make life saving discoveries.  But also, about how I react in stressful situations, how my confidence has grown to a point where I can question the Dr., or defend myself and others in conflict and confrontation (instead of my signature breaking into tears and running away), and most importantly having the ability to help a patient and family when their world is falling apart around them.  I owe all of this to my co-workers and to the many children and families I have had the honor of caring for.

This year I will be spending Christmas with them.  For reasons beyond my understanding it seems as though every Thanksgiving and Christmas we get a new diagnoses, relapse, or are forced to accept that we have run out of treatment options for a patient. For a time of year that is traditionally spent feeling grateful for good health, being surrounded by loved ones, and optimism for miracles, these children and families are experiencing the opposite.  Instead of putting out milk and cookies for Santa in front of their Christmas tree and falling asleep dreaming peaceful innocent thoughts; they will be woken up by their IV beeping, or the blood pressure cuff being wrapped around their arm, or put into a groggy fog as benadryl is pushed through their IV in prep for yet another blood transfusion.  And yet through all the pain, nausea, fevers, and fear they will have smiles on their faces.  Already the kids and parents have decorated their rooms with lights, paper Christmas trees, etc.  On Christmas morning the night shift will place large red sacks at the foot of all of their beds full with generously donated gifts that the kids will open with the same excitement as they would at home.  Families will spill in with gifts and food for both the patient and us...  On Christmas and every other day I am impressed with the determination, strength, courage, and forgiveness of these children and young adults.  

I would be lying if I claimed that I was ok with the fact that I will not be getting dressed up and attending the Howell’s Christmas Eve Party, or curl up on the couch reading the Polar Express with my family, and on Christmas morning opening stockings around the fire surrounded by Carlyn, my Mom, Dad, and Mimi Schlichter.  I have managed to paint a pretty pitiful image of myself coming home from work to an empty apartment building on Christmas Eve.  As my mind wanders yet again to that image, I take a breath and realize that I need to grow the hell up.  If my patients, whose innocence has been taken from them long ago and who have been forced into situations that most of us are still not mature enough to handle.  If they can put a smile on their face and celebrate Christmas in a hospital room, then I owe it to them to do the same.  

If nothing else, these past five years have taught me to be thankful for all that is good in my life.  When my worlds combined and I found myself on the other side of the hospital bed attempting to be as strong, caring, and selfless as the many families that find themselves on 7 Long.  When I attempted to fill the shoes of nurse/advocate that my mother has worn and continues to wear with such care, dedication, and ability.  When my family said goodbye to a dear friend and role model.  And when, yet another, patient lost his brave battle... I realized, eventually, that though my optimism had wavered, and any innocence that I had been holding onto disappeared, I could still find the blessings and good.  I was so grateful and honored to be given the chance to help as my mother does in the way that I had admired and aspired to for so long.  I am beyond thankful for the friends I have made in my new home and their acceptance of me into their lives and families.  I am reminded of the family I have, and the amazing people they surrounded me with... that would be all of you.  Although I will be alone on Christmas eve, and with perfect strangers on a plane Christmas night.  I will be able to put a smile on my face because, as it turns out, I am not alone at all.  I have the memory of beautiful and brave people ranging from 6 months to 88 years old, I have the inspiration to be both selfless and courageous at the same time, and I have the wonderful luck that all of you are here in my life ready give me a hug, make me laugh, and push me to dream bigger while keeping me grounded.  

So to sum up what was supposed to be a quick paragraph of a letter... It turns out that there is nothing more gratifying, humbling, and inspiring than being a pediatric oncology nurse on Christmas.  But I could not support and care for the patients without having had all of you as friends, role models, and family.   I love and appreciate all of you more than you will ever know.

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!

Love,

Abby xoxo

*more to come...