I didn’t have any Christmas spirit inside of me, what I’d had instead had been cancerous lumps. The doctor said the operations had been a success but I would have to stay in hospital over Christmas to recover. There was no place worse to spend Christmas, other then jail and the streets, I guess.
‘Home by new year’s eve, maybe, if you are well enough,’ he had added.
I looked at the few tatty decorations the ward nurses had strung up and the tiny Christmas tree on the table. It looked like no one had even tried, like me they couldn’t be bothered. There was no jolliness to be had here.
(Inspired by; https://rantingalong.blog/2018/12/06/joelles-tales-first-thursday-of-the-month-tmat120-writing-prompt-for-december-2018/ with thanks).
The Story Files 
What a sad tale!
I’m hoping that your Christmases since that time have been merrier.
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Thanks. This was just a fiction story and not my real life. But it’s nice when my writing makes people think it’s real.
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During Christmas 1983, my husband was in the ICU. I had to “pull the plug” sometime during that week. His family blamed me for his death — even after his doctor explained that it was the multiple packs of cigarettes per day that he smoked, and the diabetes that killed him. Until I read what I thought was your experience, I had blocked it from my mind.
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Aww, I’m very sorry to hear that. 😦 I have spent a bit of time in hospital, not really around Christmas though. I have had family members dying of cancer years ago too. I guess maybe that’s where the idea came from. I don’t know, sometime I just start writing and the ideas flow.
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That’s a sad story. I feel for your protagonist.
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Me to! Thanks for reading.
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