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“I looked at him and told him he wasn’t the real Santa,” Claire stated as we were on our way to the mall this Christmas.

“Oh?” I said.  “What gave him away?”

“The belt, of course!” she retorted.  “The real Santa wouldn’t wear a belt like that!”

“Of course,” I replied, trying not to laugh.  Julie, who still believes in Santa, giggled.

Claire was so excited about Santa that she helped us to have a really special Christmas this year.  On a personal level, AJ and I were really blue – it was our third Christmas out of our house.  AJ put up lights, nevertheless, and we managed to have some good family time together.  Once we had bought the presents, attended the school concerts, and baked all the cookies, Claire and AJ took the trailer out to a Christmas tree farm and waded through a stream to find the “perfect” tree.  The girls secretly made paintings for each others bedrooms in the hope that we’d soon be back in our house – Claire made a vibrant 3D butterfly on a canvas for Julie so that she could “see” it, and Julie made a 3D cupcake on a canvas for Claire in pinks and pale yellows.  Given her poor motor skills, it had taken her weeks to make.  It was quite wonderful to see the girls’ excitement as they gave each other their gifts!

Soon after Christmas Julie became violently ill.  She had been ill with a fever off and on for several days in December, and we had taken her into clinics.  When I asked her what was wrong, using her PODD picture communication symbols, she responded and told us that her abdomen hurt.  This seemed to make sense as she subsequently tested positive for a UTI.  We started her on a course of antibiotics, and she improved for a few days.

Just after Christmas the plot thickened as AJ and Claire came down with a norovirus.  Claire threw up in style … after vomiting for about the 18th time she looked up from the bathroom floor where she sat on her knees, hugging the toilet and trying to tell me about the little children, in red dresses, whom she had seen running through the room.  I was quite horrified and realized that she had become dehydrated very quickly.  After I bullied her into drinking some electrolytes, she improved a great deal.

Terrified that Julie would become ill, I had been washing my hands obsessively.  I had also been taking ginger at the smallest sign of nausea.  So far, however, Julie and I seemed to have escaped this nasty virus.  As AJ and Claire improved, we started to think about Claire’s birthday which was rapidly approaching before the year-end.  Julie, however, gradually started to become more ill.  Eventually, she spent two nights in a row crying incessantly.

“I don’t mind if she cries all day on my birthday,” Claire told me, as she tried to help with Julie.  I recognized that she somehow sensed that I might be worrying about her, and my heart reached out to this child of mine who is so intuitive and caring.  Sure enough, Julie spent the night before Claire’s birthday writhing in pain, screaming, and vomiting.  She was admitted into hospital on Claire’s birthday.  Too busy to help Claire open her gifts, I gave her a “special” gift as we loaded Julie into the van.  “I knew how much you wanted her,” I said as she unwrapped the little doll.  Claire looked up with shining eyes and the smile on her face was like a ray of sunshine.  “She’ll be able to cuddle with you tonight when I’m at the hospital with Julie,” I said.  “She’s your special doll.  When you look at her, you’ll know that we love you very much!”

Julie was admitted into isolation where she continued to vomit and scream for what seemed like days.  At one point her platelets fell to 33,000 (normal is 180,000 to 440,000) and we worried that they would drop further and that she would have to go to the mainland for a transfusion.  When Julie’s platelets rose slightly we felt relieved.  However, she continued to scream through the nights and was obviously experiencing a great deal of pain.  Despite the painkillers, Julie screeched and screamed for hours on end, eventually going hoarse after a few days.  The pediatrician looking after her ran many tests, and soon discovered that her pancreatic enzymes were high.  “This is like having a third-degree burn on the inside,” a friend of mine who is a nurse commented.

Initially, we worried that Julie would be transferred to the Children’s Hospital in our province.  “She’s too complicated for this,” the surgeon at our hospital told me.  “We think she’s going to need surgery in Toronto.”  My heart sank at this news.  It was devastating enough that Julie was in so much pain, but a trip to the other side of Canada (our third trip to Sick Kids!) would not be easy for us financially or emotionally.

AJ and Claire relieved me at the hospital so that I could go home and do some laundry (it’s amazing to see how Claire can bring a smile to Julie’s face every time she walks into a hospital room and says “Hi Julie!”).  I took Claire home and tucked her into bed, finished my laundry, took a much-needed bath, dyed my hair (yes, it’s a great coping mechanism), and packed my bags.  I had no idea how long Jenna would be in Toronto so I wanted to prepare myself for any possibility.  “Please pray for Julie,” I wrote to friends and family.  Then I returned to the hospital to relieve AJ and spend another uncomfortable night on the parent couch in Julie’s room.

The following day Julie had an MRI of her abdomen and – voila! – her pancreas didn’t show any inflammation or lesions.  When she had her bloodwork, her amylase had returned to normal, and her lipase – although still “high” – had started to come down.  Determined to leave hospital as quickly as possible, Julie decided to take matters into her own hands and (for the second time during that hospital visit) tore out her IV.  I didn’t notice Julie’s triumphant moment as I was doggedly pursuing an errant word in my “101 Easy Crossword Puzzles.”  When I eventually glanced up I saw the young lady with the low platelets looking back at me while clutching a blood-soaked nightie and grinning from ear to ear!

When Julie was discharged from hospital six days after her admission, she had lost a lot of weight.  Not able to keep food down for over seven days, Julie had been subsisting mainly on IV fluid and was now eating only sparingly.  Cognizant that the battle ahead of us was more psychological than mental, I took her into school the next day after checking with the pediatrician.  Until this year, Julie’s school program has been primarily at home due to her immunity issues.  This year, however, we have a “split” program whereby she can attend a few classes at a local private school as she is able, depending on her health.  Seeing her face when she entered the resource room after her week-long ordeal in hospital almost made me cry.  “Hi Julie” and “Poor Julie” resounded from the few people who were present.  I felt a sense of validation from Julie – that she had the strength of her peers, and that she somehow “belonged” to a group.  After feeding her a muffin in this supportive atmosphere I took Julie home where she slept for the rest of the day.  It was over a week until she had the strength to return to school for a half day, and the next few weeks were brutal.  In too much pain to sleep for more than 90 minutes at a time, Julie was up a good part of each night crying despite a heavy dose of various sleeping medications and painkillers.  In addition, she wasn’t able to stay awake for more than four hours at a time during the day before starting to cry and needing to sleep.

Several weeks later, I am glad to report that Julie’s lipase has now returned to normal and that she is a happy teenager once more.  I don’t think I’ve been so stressed for so long without knowing why Julie was in pain, and it has taken me weeks to recover.  I’ve not cried more than a few times in many, many years, but last week I cried twice, surprising even myself.  On neither occasion did the event warrant the tears, yet I found that in the second instance I cried without stopping, scaring even myself.  Perhaps our bodies, with a wisdom of their own, know what we need.

AJ and little Claire, each having battled the Norovirus in their own way, eventually regained their strength.  Claire still has dark circles under her eyes, but is happy and content now that she is back at school.  We eventually helped Claire open her birthday gifts and we plan to have a party for her soon.  I must admit I felt so sorry for both my children during this sad time:  For poor Julie who was in so much pain and throwing up … and for little Claire who so generously ventured, “I don’t mind if Julie screams all day on my birthday.”

Tonight, as I tucked Julie into bed and started to gather laundry, Claire looked up from arranging her blankets and dolls

“If I ran away from home,” she said, “I would look at all the pictures on my cell phone and cry.”

I stopped picking up dirty clothes, not sure if I had heard correctly.  All sorts of ideas rushed through my brain as I considered whether or not my six-year-old was wildly unhappy living in our somewhat chaotic family.

“Well … do you think you’re going to run away from home?” I asked tentatively.

“Of course not!”

“Why?” I asked curiously

“Silly!  Because I don’t have a cell phone of course!” she responded, surprised by my lack of logic.

I stopped to consider, tucking this piece of useful information into the back of my brain for future years when a certain young person asks me to buy them a cell-phone package.

“Well …” I queried.  “Would you run away from home if you did have a cell phone?”

Claire stopped to consider for a moment.  “No,” she said simply.

“Do you get upset with Julie being ill sometimes?” I enquired.  “Sad, maybe?”

“Mom,” she replied.  “It’s ok.”

Claire looked at me, and she looked at Julie.  “It’s ok, mom,” she said and then she smiled …”Come and tuck me into bed!   I need a tent … and my doll goes there …. and I need some water …. please brush my teeth for me!”

As I finished my chores and thanked God for my lovely children, I realized that the true gift of my life is the joy of loving and being loved.  I don’t believe there’s a greater gift possible on this planet – I think that quite possibly I am the richest woman alive!