Twas the night before Christmas, the ED was quiet,
Not a creature was stirring, there wasn’t a riot.
The patients slept soundly, so snug in their cots,
With some having dreams of free vodka shots.

When out rang a noise, the silence was broke.
A priority one is incoming it spoke.
The voice on the phone was all crackled and manic,
Our poor EMS seemed to be in a panic.

The report filtered in and I soon became hot,
As responders reported that Santa’s been shot.
They rushed in Saint Nick still smiling his greeting:
“Oh no! Ho-ho-ho I am certainly bleeding!”

“Santa!” I cried in the foulest of moods,
“Who did this?” I asked. He whispered “two dudes.”
I stifled emotions, good Santa was pissed,
“They just made the top of my naughty list.”

We stripped him and flipped him to find bullet holes.
Our tasks were quite clear, accomplish our goals.
I acted quite quickly and did ABC’s,
Looking him over from red hat to knees.

A hole in the leg and the belly and chest,
Such violence to Santa was hard to digest!
His cap had been shot, the slug count to four,
Its white fluffy ball fell off to the floor.

I did a quick rectal and to my surprise,
Amazing the sight I beheld with my eyes,
I pulled out my finger and felt at a loss,
For it now was covered with rich chocolate sauce.

We threw in a chest tube and I went insane,
The tube changed right there into sweet candy cane!
The nurses inserted the Foley agog,
And from his new catheter poured some eggnog.

We worked fifty minutes our pulses were dashing,
Just trying to keep the man’s vitals from crashing.
We poured in the saline, but nothing would last,
As candy poured from his holes just as fast.

His pressure came down; his heart rate did too,
And then it occurred to me just what to do.
“This man is of magic and candy and dreams,
Perhaps we should try some ulterior means.”

I opened D50, the strongest we had,
And to that container we started to add:
Our dreams and our hopes, strong coffee as well,
More sugar, some glitter and the sound of a bell.

We poured our concoction right into his heart.
And all we could hope was that magic would start.
At first there was nothing, and then just a blip,
He stirred, then he fluttered and then he did grip.