This is a little something that I wrote and someone told me I should share with some people at the American Red Cross because it may remind some of the volunteers and even staff that even the smallest tasks that we do for others can have a HUGE impact.

I had cancer when I was in the 9^th grade and I have started writing a book of short stories about my experiences with the horrible “C word.” When I was thinking of some of the different stories that I wanted to include in this book, one of the first moments that always comes to mind for me is the one when I was getting my chemotherapy treatments right around Christmas time. I have shared this story with a few family members and I have shared it with a couple volunteers here at the Jefferson County Service Center so..... I thought I would share it with those of you that have some free time and are willing to read this.

It was December 1987 at St. Louis Children's hospital. My parents and I were used to the monthly routine of being admitted for a 72-hour dose of that horrible poison otherwise known as CHEMOTHERAPY. We entered the hospital, checked in, and went up the elevator to the ever so dreaded 9th floor. The staff is always so friendly and the decor of the hallways always reflect which holiday is coming up next (there's the hanging snowflakes from the ceiling...the lighted Christmas tree in the corner yadda yadda) but I still always knew what was coming and it definitely DID NOT feel like Christmas. But there we were again ....entering my room and disbursing into our usual spots. Dad went and sat in the chair....mom sat on the bench/bed by the window..... and I put on that pretty little gown with no back and the fuzzy socks with the no slip bottoms and got into the bed. Then, in comes the nurse with her IV bag and all the syringes of medication to add to it. The gunk in the bag is what kills the cancer and then there's the medicine that helps me only to throw up every half hour instead of every minute and then there is the one that makes me so sleepy that I feel as though I am comatose. Well, really I was comatose. I had to use a bed pan because I was so weak and my body felt like lead and therefore I could not get up. I always heard all that was going on around me....the TV, my parents talking, the beeping IV's in the other rooms......I could hear but I couldn't function. Everyone always thought I was sleeping but I wasn't sleeping, I just didn't have enough strength to talk, move, or even open my eyes. (I'm explaining all of this for a reason.)

Remember I had mentioned that it is Christmas time. Well, I believe that about 4 or 5 hours had gone by, but who really knows for sure, when I thought I heard some people singing Christmas songs. Then the voices seemed like they were getting closer and closer and eventually I was laying there in bed listening to most beautiful Christmas carols. My mom (even though she never really knew if I heard her or not because of my comatose state) would always talk to me. With my eyes closed and my body not able to move I heard my mom say "Libby, there are Christmas Carolers outside your room." Then once again I heard the songs.... and those carolers...they were singing so pretty....Angels we have heard on High and then I'm dreaming of a White Christmas. My mom explained to me that the carolers were wearing great big bonnets and the big old fashion dresses that were made with lace and velvet. They were hunter green and black with some burgundy and gold is what she had said. And for about fifteen minutes I laid there in that bed...89 pounds, bald head, IV's, bed sores on the bottom of my heals and blisters on my gums from so much vomiting and I felt WONDERFUL!!! yes...you read correctly...WONDERFUL!!!......I felt like it really was Christmas time. Still makes me cry to this day.

Why am I telling you this and why do I tell my volunteers this story?.....because sometimes we feel like if we can't do something grandiose for someone, give thousands of dollars or volunteer hundreds of hours a year to some organization then we are just not needed....... and I want you to know that this is just not true. That night in that hospital room I was given the gift of Christmas by those Carolers and I know that they have no idea the impact they had on me. They sang outside my door with my curtain pulled so I know they couldn't have even seen me. I was so weak that I was not able to acknowledge them or even smile to let my parents know that I could hear them. So how could they ever know what they did for me that night? They were just a group of people that donated a little bit of their time for a very short while and yet they gave me a memory I will never forget and a little bit of courage to get through the next three days of treatments..

Donate some time and help someone. Even the smallest act of kindness can have an impact of a lifetime.

– Lib