Dec
17
2009
The White Tree
It’s been two years since my life-threatening heart trouble. There is a date circled on my calendar – one with no notation beside it. December 15. That’s the day I went into the hospital, and every December it haunts me. Had I not gone in at the insistence of my wife you wouldn’t be reading this. I don’t think about that fact every day and that’s a good thing. There’s a time limit on that shit, and one can’t live in those places. But when December charges the ghosts, I think about that day. In the past I’ve been cynical about Christmas, but after ’07, every December day feels like a blessing. The crowds, the shopping madness, the vulgar consumerism, the endless carols. It’s hard to take but it’s all part of December, and I nearly bought it in December. These days I can look out my window and stare at the snow for an hour. I can watch cars go by outside a cafe and say to myself, “I’m glad to be here. I’m glad to be breathing into this mug.” I can look at my family and be glad that I’m still here to take care of them.
One evening when I was in the joint, my wife Kerry wheeled me down to the main floor of the hospital (The University of Alberta Hospital in Edmonton). There was a big white tree down there – like a mall tree, but assembled with restraint and elegance. It was there to heal the broken; buoy the spirits of those who spent time there: staff, patients, volunteers, and visitors. It looked majestic to my med-heavy eyes. I believe that tree, along with many other things, made a difference in my recovery.
In December 2008 – one year after my ordeal – I visited the tree and dropped off a small gift for the staff in the ICU ward where I spent most of my recovery time. The nurses in there did (and still do) amazing things and dealt with shit you wouldn’t believe. Showing appreciation – even though none of the people that tended to me were still there – felt like the right thing to do. I’ll be doing the same this year.
This year however, the hospital almost didn’t put the tree up. I paid a visit on the morning of December 2, figuring that the tree would be up. No tree to be found. In fact, save the beautiful embellishments of the gift shop, it didn’t look a whole lot like Christmas in the place. This stranged me out, so I asked at information.
“When does the Christmas Tree go up?”
“It’s not going up this year. Cutbacks.”
I let out an incredulous WHAAAT? Of all the places that need a Christmas tree, a hospital has to be at the top of the list. The sickly need spiritual help more than anybody. I walked away thinking, how can they do this? Unbelievable that a Christmas tree would be denied.
I’m glad to report that the spirit of the season has prevailed and as of this writing the big white Christmas tree is up and beautiful. It may not save any lives, and it may be an overworn symbol of the season, but I can guarantee that tree makes a difference to the mental health of patients and many others. I’m glad it’s there, and I’ll be paying it a visit very soon.
I wrote a poem that mentions this tree. Poetry is my great healer…and my lifework. I recited the poem – “Final Poem for the White Tree” – at the final Raving Poets event of the fall 2009 season, and you can watch it on YouTube here.
May the season keep you well, and may the spirit of this time heal in you what needs to be healed.
