Christmas Magic ‘Gus’ Last Gift’

First Place

The hospital always felt different to me on Christmas Eve. Lights burned less brightly, noises were hushed. The cookie plates were empty, garlands hung limply in the nurses’ station and only the sickest remained or arrived.

It was only moments into Christmas morning when the emergency room called. They would be transferring to my floor an elderly man who had suffered a severe stroke. He was not expected to live through the night.

With a sigh, I got up to prepare a room for him. A case like this was always sad, but on Christmas …

The elevator door opened; the ER nurse pushed a stretcher out. At her heels was a woman with snowy white hair. We got Gus settled into his bed and the nurse turned to me.

“This is Gus,” she said, “and this is his wife, Helen. They were out delivering Christmas gifts when Gus collapsed in the car.” She drew me aside. “He had a huge intracranial bleed and is losing ground fast. I don’t envy you having to deal with this tonight.”

Me neither, I thought as I went to Gus’ bedside. Helen was holding his hand. “He’s not going to get well, is he?”

“No, Helen, I’m afraid not.”

She sighed. “We had so many good years together. I just wish this wasn’t happening on Christmas. It’s Gus’ favorite time of the year. He loves going around playing Santa, handing out packages to our friends. That’s what we were doing tonight … ” her voice trailed off in a sob.

With a lump in my throat I went to answer another patient’s call light.

The night passed slowly.

At each check, Gus’ breathing and pulse were a little more irregular. The sun was just peeking over the distant mountains when Gus took one last shuddering breath and died.

One of the hardest questions I had to ask grieving families was whether the patient wanted to be considered for organ donation.

“How did Gus feel about being an organ donor, Helen? Did the two of you ever discuss it?”

“No, not exactly, but I know Gus would want to do whatever he could for someone else. But isn’t he too old?”

“Maybe for some things, but his corneas would be used for sure,” I told her.

She thought for a minute, then looked at me with tear-bright eyes and a tremulous smile. “Gus would be thrilled if he helped someone see again. Yes, I want to donate his organs.”

With her words, the sun rose, pouring golden light over Helen and Gus.

As she leaned forward to kiss him, I heard her whisper, “Merry Christmas, darling, and good-bye for now.

“I’m so proud of you and your last gift.”