Thursday, December 23, 2010

Twas the Night Before Christmas!!


Santa has been wearing his new custom orthotics for 2 weeks now. Santa tells Dr. Vail that his bilateral heel pain (Plantar Fascitis) is much better with the new custom orthotics in his Santa Boots. Santa is also doing his stretching exercises with his feet everyday - has been wearing his night splints on his feet to stretch out the ligaments and tendons. Santa has been practicing at the North Pole with the elves coming down chimneys and has had no problems. Santa has even used a bag full of presents and toys when practicing coming down the chimney. Dr. Vail has given Santa the clearance to go ahead with delivery of presents and toys on Christmas Eve night. Dr. Vail advised Santa to be careful, stretch daily, and continue night splints for bilateral heels if they feel tight or start to hurt again. Ice is abundantly available at the North Pole to use on the bilateral heels for pain also. Santa was very pleased with all the information that Dr. Vail gave to him on his condition and the treatment has been very successful. Santa left Dr. Vail's office on his way back to the North Pole to get last minute presents and toys ready for Christmas Eve! Santa wished Dr. Vail , staff, and patients a "Very Merry Christmas!" as he left.



Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house

Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.

The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,In hopes that St Nicholas soon would be there.

The children were nestled all snug in their beds,

While visions of sugar-plums danced in their heads.

And mamma in her ‘kerchief, and I in my cap,Had just settled our brains for a long winter’s nap.

When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.

Away to the window I flew like a flash,Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.

The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow

Gave the lustre of mid-day to objects below.

When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,

But a miniature sleigh, and eight tinny reindeer.

With a little old driver, so lively and quick,I knew in a moment it must be St Nick.

More rapid than eagles his coursers they came,

And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name!"Now Dasher! now, Dancer! now, Prancer and Vixen!On, Comet! On, Cupid! on, on Donner and Blitzen!

To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall!Now dash away! Dash away! Dash away all!"

As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,

When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky.

So up to the house-top the coursers they flew,

With the sleigh full of Toys, and St Nicholas too.

And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof
The prancing and pawing of each little hoof.

As I drew in my head, and was turning around,

Down the chimney St Nicholas came with a bound.

He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot,

And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot.

A bundle of Toys he had flung on his back,

And he looked like a peddler, just opening his pack.

His eyes-how they twinkled! his dimples how merry!

His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!

His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,

And the beard of his chin was as white as the snow.

The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,

And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath.

He had a broad face and a little round belly,

That shook when he laughed, like a bowlful of jelly!

He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,

And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself!

A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,

Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread.

He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,

And filled all the stockings, then turned with a jerk.

And laying his finger aside of his nose,

And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose!

He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,

And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.

But I heard him exclaim, ‘ere he drove out of sight,

"Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good-night!"



Clement Clarke Moore (1779 - 1863) wrote the poem Twas the night before Christmas also called “A Visit from St. Nicholas" in 1822.



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