For me, Christmas time is family time. Usually the plan on Christmas Day includes opening our gifts all together, followed by a day of lazing around and eating by the bucketload, resulting in the four of us lying in our pyjamas on the couch at approximately nine o’clock at night.
This year, however, things were slightly different. We didn’t laze around, or eat ridiculous amounts, and surprisingly enough, we weren’t ready for our beds at stupid o’clock. This year, something far more remarkable happened, that made this possibly the best Christmas ever.
This year, we were given the gift of pure relief and happiness: my Grandpa, after just over two painful weeks, was given the all clear to come home from the hospital.
If you’ve read the column in the past, you may have realised that I’ve developed a strong hatred for a horrible disease I like to call the Big C.
My Grandpa had the Big C, and I never fully understood just how badly it would affect me, or my family.
After an operation that lasted well over six hours, doctors finally managed to remove Grandpa’s Big C, But unfortunately, after taking a bit of a bad reaction to the op, he found himself in ICU for a long time, until he finally moved to a ward at the start of last week.
I was worried about him having to spend Christmas stuck in a hospital bed, but when visiting him on the 25th, you can imagine our relief when the nurse told us he was good to go.
All the staff at NHS Forth Valley, as I’ve said before, are absolutely incredible, and for them to give us the gift of my Grandpa home for Christmas, well ... my family can’t thank them enough.
Christmas time is family time. For a while, I was uneasy about whether or not our full family would be able to celebrate Christmas, or whether we’d be one person short at the dinner table this year.
But this really was a Christmas miracle, and to have Grandpa home, safe and well, is better than any gift I could’ve unwrapped this year.