Autumn 2012 - Shodair Children's Hospital

“
The following story is a composite, inspired by the
children I have treated over the past 22 years in the
Northwest and my new home state of Montana:
My name is Sara. My grandma raised me for
as long as I can remember. I’m 10 now. I
never knew my daddy. I know my mom
wasn’t supposed to tell me this, but he’s in
prison now. I know Grandma was really
mad at my mom when she told me,
because I snuck out of my room
late one night and heard her
yelling at my mom over
the phone...and my
Grandma never
yelled—ever.
My family is just her
and me. I think my
mom left me
because I was really
a brat. I went to
counseling because
Grandma made me. I
didn’t want to go. Grandma
and the counselor lady told me
my Mommy left me because she drank
too much. I’m still not sure…I can be a brat
sometimes, but Grandma loves me anyway.
Christmas with Grandma was so good.
We’re poor, but we always went to church
and somehow Santa always knew what I
wanted. Even after I found out Santa wasn’t
for real, I always got what I wanted. I
pretended I believed in Santa until last
year. I didn’t want to hurt Grandma’s
feelings, but she figured out I knew Santa
wasn’t real and that I was pretending.
Grandma is smart.
I recognized the names
of two teenage girls who would
be receiving the woolly hats and
socks I wrapped, and knew one of
them would see no family over the
holiday. Trained as I am to detach,
I still got that feeling in the pit of
my stomach and said a little
prayer for her…
Now comes the really hard part: Grandma
is old and gets sick a lot. She’s always at
the doctor. This year, on the last day of
school before Christmas, I got called to the
office. Grandma is in the hospital with a
breathing tube and these two ladies tell
me I’m going to a foster home. “No way!”
I shouted. “I want to be with my
Grandma, now!”
I don’t know what happened next,
really. I blacked out, scared
and mad—my heart and
head racing. At the
hospital, they told me
I hit those ladies and
had to be restrained.
Police came… and
I will spend
Christmas at
Shodair in Helena.
Well, I can tell you
now, what a neat place.
I wish I was with Grandma,
but everyone was so nice! My
counselor talked to Grandma’s doctor.
My social worker came to see me even
though I gave her a black eye. I cried. I
felt so bad! On Christmas morning, there
were lots of presents and a big man with a
guitar singing Christmas carols and there
was lots of good food.
At Shodair, I got to make friends. One boy
told me he was in foster care and his foster
parents were really nice! Best of all, soon
after Christmas, I got to talk to Grandma.
Her voice was really hoarse from the
breathing tube, but she told me to be
good so I could visit her soon.
Yes, there is a Santa after all!
Autumn 2012 3
”