What is the world coming to?

Across the two hundred years or so that my alter ego had spent in this mythical Ice Pole world, there was one important lesson he learnt, one should never become complacent and take the gift of immortal life for granted, which was a harsh and bitter lesson that took him every last one of those amazing years at the Ice Pole to discover. His epiphany came in the form of a rude awakening, experienced in this passing year when after only a few moments with the doctor his world was turned upside down, making it the most traumatic year of what he had mistakenly believed was a forever life. After which a period of confusion followed that quite, frankly, left him with a mountain to climb, he became so bamboozled, that he found himself unsure how many days there were left for him and the elves to prepare for Christmas, neither did he know if there was even enough time to decorate the tree or time for Mrs Clause to cook those steaming hot mince pies or to bake and ice the Christmas cake, not to mention the roast turkey and those delicious sizzling pigs in blankets. So, finding himself totally, confused he had no choice but to step back and take an enforced break, whilst pondering over the big question.

Does Christmas genuinely matter when you have a monstrous alien feasting inside your head, which is growing larger by the day, and growing so fast that it is about to explode and turn your already befuddled brain into something that resembles brawn stew?

There is no such thing as the norm when contracting big C, for cancer is invariably a life-changing shock, but for him, it came as more of a disappointment than a shock, because when taking on this gig, he was given the impression it was going to last forever. In truth, he was not told a lie, for someone else other than him, would be holding the reins of those amazing flying reindeer as they conjured up their magic. This was an unpleasant prospect to contemplate, for he had found it impossible not to fall in love with the reindeer, who over time had become his surrogate children. It is most likely that you already know each of the little beauty's names, having learnt them off by heart from a famous rhyme, that you would have sung time after time in the nursery but here is a little more about their amazing characters.

For no other reason than her name was the first to come into my head, I will begin with Dasher who is the wizard of speed who uses her magic wisely, to get the best out of her sisters.

Then we have the little darling Cupid who loves to kiss and cuddle her sisters, and her cheeky little brother who always teases her by running away, turning her affection into a game of kiss chase, that he rarely wins.

If you are looking for a reindeer with ambition, then look no further than Dancer, who is especially fond of jiggling her bottom to Salsa music and just loves to dance. She has a secret wish to appear in a Strictly Christmas Special, but sadly she is still anxiously awaiting an invitation from the Beeb.

You will always notice that someone, who stands out in a crowd, and in the Ice Pole's stable that's Donner, you cannot keep this girl down she is always the life and soul of the party, and she is more likely to dance a jig on a table than perform a Salsa.

Mirror-mirror on the wall, who is the loveliest of them all, well you do not need a magic mirror to work that out, you must have already guessed that it is Prancer. And there is no doubt, she spends all her nights dreaming about being invited to the Christmas Ball by Prince Charming.

When things do not go to plan and you find yourself running late and in need of some extra speed, you need to look no further, Blitzen is the one to call, she is as fast as lightning and at a push could outpace a space rocket.

When things are getting complicated and you need an ambassador, I can assure you there are none more capable than Vixen, she is the most enchanting. It is wise to tread carefully when in her company, for if you step on her hoof, she is likely to get fiery. But for some reason, she never drops her guard, so her true self will remain a mystery.

Having favourites is a luxury Santa cannot afford, but one cannot help but adore Comet, she is all sweetness and light, and honestly, reindeers do not come any nicer she is simply the most wonderful company and will sit and listen patiently until the Northern Lights go out.

There is no leader of the reindeer pack for they are naturally democratic but Olive the one who does not stand out in the pack is not just another reindeer, she is the nearest thing her siblings have to a mother and makes no mistake what she says goes.

And last, but not least, there's young Rudolf the Red-Nosed Reindeer who is the youngest of them all and the latest to arrive from Reindeer School, and although by far the clumsiest, with the use of his bright shiny nose, which works better than a satnav, he has become the guiding light of Santa's sleigh.

Read the small print

I know it is an extremely remote possibility but just in case you find yourself given a similar choice, it is best you know, that they do not lie, but do bend the truth. There will be some who will say I should have known better because as a child, Santa Claus never came to visit kids like me. I was one of those less fortunate lost children who spent chilly winter nights huddled together around the air conditioning outlets of the giant tower blocks, to keep warm. Well, that was until we were chased away by the whistle-blowing bogeys, who are wrapped up nice and warm in their scary black uniforms, boldly waving fearsome truncheons at young children as if they were criminals. Those shadowy monsters did not have a clue or more likely did not care, for they might well have been sentencing those children to death. This is what happened to my bestie, Rusti, who got her name from the flaming red hair, which flowed in long wavy curls down her back, who to her bitter end, was my one faithful friend.

It was on this dismal Christmas Eve the reindeer found me, why Santa allowed them to stop for just another wretched street urchin like me, I will never know. I stood all alone crying over Rusti's frail and brittle body, it lay curled up in a tight ball, it was not unusual for a child to freeze to death in the snowy hollows, where we sought shelter from the howling wind and driving snow. Like magic, the reindeer appeared from the blizzard and an old man dressed from head to toe in green, stepped down from the sleigh and wrapped me in a giant cloak. His little helpers gathered around Rusti and began to breathe warm air over her body and I watched in amazement as the snow melted and her skin took on a warm glow. From little bags they sprinkled sparkling dust over Rusti who appeared to be asleep and in its golden light she began to rise, the light flickered brightly and she vanished into the starlit sky in what looked like a giant Christmas Tree bauble.  After lifting me onto his sleigh where it was surprisingly warm, the old man told me a short and fascinating story of a magical land free from fear, made from sweets, candy, and all things nice, with lots of toys and loads of other little people to play with. It was the promise of that story which lured me from the streets, and once I had agreed to go he told me the journey would be over in a flash, and that the next stop was the Ice Pole. I made myself comfortable and braced my body for take-off, I never felt the sleigh move but true to his word we arrived at our destination in the blink of an eye. I cannot lie it was fun for many long and wonderful years as a child at the Ice Pole, where I certainly did not grow up fast. It turns out that the other little people were elves, which only became clear to me as I slowly grew older and taller. It took a long time, but I had grown to be a man in a family where my adopted brothers and sisters had hardly aged, it was like growing up in a bizarre but loving nursery. There were times when I wondered how it was possible that Mr and Ms Claus could have so many kids, naively believing, that all the children came from the streets just like me, to live in a mystical home for lost souls until it became obvious that this was not true. However, it was not until coming of age that Mr and Mrs Clause told me most of the Ice Pole's secrets, mind you I still have no idea who is pulling the strings, but that is for another story. However, those secrets revealed that my original assumption was almost true, for the children had been gathered from streets around the world, which explains why they all looked so different. Each child had an inherent skill for which they had been chosen and as a reward, they were gifted with a life where they remained young and happy employed in the use of those skills, although as I have learnt, nothing lasts forever.

Dando Silverfoot

Just in case you are in doubt about who is doing all the talking, it is me, the current Santa Claus, but as we speak my gig at the Ice Pole looks like it may be coming to a close, therefore I have no time to waste, so if you want to hear my story please be quick to join me and take a seat by the fire, while I take you on a journey. Let us start with my real name which is Dando Silverfoot or at least that is what they called me on the streets of a city, the name of which I never knew. The slums of the city were my home that were hidden below tall buildings and where they touched the clouds was the edge of my universe. My parents are only faint ghost-like memories, so much so that they may be only a figment of my imagination. But fact or fiction my true family was now the other unfortunate kids who along with me did whatever they could to survive in a world that those more fortunate would have considered a living nightmare. But if the truth is told, even though we wore tattered clothing, had dirty faces, and stank like hell, we were at times blissfully happy sharing moments without a trace of fear, during these brief moments of pleasure we managed to experience joy in a world where a stolen cake or a bottle of milk was a time of celebration.

Although we were never taught to read or write, that did not mean we were stupid, and if you were smart enough you soon learned to read from the billboards, posters, road signs, discarded papers and magazines, but the ability to write was a completely different ball game and eluded many. On the city's streets, you needed a nimble brain to outwit our self-appointed masters and enemies, who were the older kids, mostly members of gangs who had survived the city streets a generation or so before us. After successfully serving their time in a dog-eat-dog environment they had by necessity grown into monsters, monsters that ruled the city's underbelly with an iron and all too often fatal fist. They never cared about us cubs and why would they, their only positive contribution was to father the next generation of penniless children to populate the pack, whose destiny it was to end up on the same streets as soon as they could walk and talk. That of course assumed they had not been dumped in a skip with the rest of society's rubbish, where they and their afterbirth would feed the rats who rarely went hungry, but what goes around comes around, because sooner or later we would hunt and catch those rats and return the favour.

John Doe

Sadly my illness could not be cured by the Ice Poles' magic, so I had no choice but to return to this world, albeit as a John Doe and deliver myself to the mercy of the nearest public hospital. It is wonderful to find that things had changed so much since the days of my childhood when they would have thrown a penniless pauper like me back onto the streets to die, completing the natural rat-eat-rat cycle that had started when I was a child. I was a little overweight as you would expect after years of being Santa, having to eat all those mince pies and sup all those noggins of rum. Something about which the nurses were only too happy to give me a lecture, but they were amused when I told them my name was Dando Silverfoot and had no idea why. However, they were pleased that I was not dirty and smelly like your average John Doe and found it odd that the only thing I could remember was my name. They even got the police to do a missing person search and of course, it came as no surprise to me, when they discovered there were hundreds of people named Silverfoot scattered across the country. However it did come as a surprise when they told me that only one Silverfoot had ever been reported missing, a young child called Daniel. It was only natural they assumed that I wasn't that lad grown up, as the record was found in the city's ancient archives. It was only by good fortune the record had been found for the early 1800s records had recently been digitised to save on the cost of storage. But what made it even stranger, was that it had been funded by a secret benefactor who wished to ensure the city's history was not lost. It seems odd to me but it appears that things are much safer when stored in what they called a cloud, which made no sense, for I know first-hand, clouds are fluffy and unstable things at best.

Fortunately, my origin did not seem to matter and from the outset, the hospital did its utmost to diagnose my problem and promptly began treatment. The doctors and nurses were all amazing, and it seemed they were passionate about saving the life of a history-less vagrant. The doctors were very considerate and gentle when they gave me their original diagnosis, explaining that I had a malignant form of cancer in my brain, it had an extremely complicated name, so it was easier for me just to call the tumour an alien. For my good, they were brutally honest explaining that there was only a small probability of survival and as a last resort, an operation on my brain would be needed to remove the alien if the chemotherapy did not shrink and destroy it. I had come here for help and felt it only right that I should accept the doctor's diagnosis and let them begin the treatment for which they had said there was an urgent need. I had nowhere else to go and spent weeks in the hospital as they worked their way through the various stages of the chemotherapy, and as time passed their faces became glummer and glummer as the alien refused to shrink, if anything it had grown. The most distressing side effect was the loss of my hair due to the side effects of the chemotherapy, Those long white locks had defined all the Santa that had come before me, and I'll bet you do not remember seeing a bald Santa. I tried not to let it show but one of the nurses who cared for me knew instinctively how important it was, so without asking collected and saved my hair as it fell out, and without asking the nurses from other shifts followed her example.

Valonia Silverfoot

Behind the scenes plans were being made in preparation for the operation, an operation on my brain which had little to no chance of success even if performed by the world's most skilled Neurosurgeon. It's not that I knew it at the time but this person certainly wasn't available to operate, but neither did I know her name was Valonia Silverfoot. Neurological surgery was in her family's blood, for generations Silverfoot's had been taken from this world by similar incurable brain tumours. She came from an extensive line of doctors, nurses, surgeons, and researchers who had dedicated their lives to fighting this disease, which was considered a family curse. Unknown to me the consultant on my case had decided to send a message to her explaining that they were treating a patient with the same Silverfoot surname, for a brain tumour, and sought her advice on a suitable surgeon. He got the surprise of his life when she replied to the message within the hour asking him if he could supply her with a full copy of the patient's case notes. This of course was something that without my permission was not possible as she was beyond the boundaries of his health service. It was my turn to be surprised when the consultant arrived at my bedside unannounced and with haste explained what had happened, my permission was given without hesitation, and in response, he was off like a shot to send her my case notes, not wishing there to be any more delay.

It was only during the review of my case notes that Valonia discovered I was registered as a John Doe whose only memory was his name. But she was more than a surgeon, she was a student of her family line and therefore well-informed of her family's history and fully aware that only one Silverfoot child had been reported missing, back in the early 1800s. However, Valonia was undeterred and considered it just another family mystery that needed resolution. Within a day she had absorbed all she could from my consultant's case notes and quickly decided she would cross the ocean to see and talk with this man, knowing that whatever the outcome he was desperately in need of her help. She contacted my surgeon directly and informed him of her plans to fly in and visit Dando Silverfoot at his bedside and was prepared to perform whatever procedure was needed at zero cost, so there was no worry that her services would exceed the hospital's budget. He could not thank her enough and found it difficult to hide his surprise and amazement at how humble a person she remained throughout their lengthy video call. Before their face-to-face ended she made one final request, I would like you to arrange for another complete set of blood works to be performed so that the results are available on my arrival, and he told her it was the least he could do.

It was fortunate that Valonia was in the middle of a sabbatical and therefore had no existing commitments to navigate and was able to leave home at the drop of a hat and in a matter of a few days this motherly woman was sat at the side of my bed, where we had a lengthy conversation. Much to my surprise, she told me I was a remarkable man and explaining why, she told me I had a rare, if not unique immune system, although it contains evidence of a wide range of diseases, infections and viruses from around the world it was able to protect me from the effects of them all. But sadly, it has limitations it cannot protect you from genetic disorders which are hard-wired into your DNA, such as invasive cancer. And just like my consultant before her, she was completely honest and made it clear she was not a worker of miracles and a provider of false promises, but on a brighter note, she was delighted that my name was Silverfoot. And because of our common family health issue, she went to great lengths to explain her family history and how it had led her and many other members of her family, both past and present to enter this field of medical science. Valonia explained how following years of practice and research the afflicted members of her family and many other patients around the world were now able to look forward to a normal life. However, her prognosis for me was not so good and made a point of expressing her concern that a man of my age had gone so long with an undiagnosed tumour, as it was now customary practice for people in their late 50s or early 60s who were suffering from similar symptoms to be routinely sent for spinal and brain scans as a matter of urgency.

DNA

She was very thorough and took a great effort to ensure she had spoken with all the staff who had been involved in my treatment, all the way back to day one. It was while doing so that she came across the compassionate nurse who had made sure all the hair I lost was collected and stored. It was not standard practice, but as an experienced nurse it was something she did in case it was needed for future wig manufacture or colour matching, she also knew from experience that after recovery or loss, the surviving patient or members of the deceased family were often bitterly disappointed if they had no hair for a keepsake. Valonia was most impressed by the nurse and asked the nurse to provide her with a sample of my hair, which unknown to anyone was promptly sent for a private DNA check. This may not have been ethically correct as her primary aim was to prove that she suspected that this mysterious John Doe was truly a member of her Silverfoot family line. Therefore as the sample was not strictly for health reasons, she planned to keep the results to herself as she saw no sense in making an issue of something personal that might in some way lead to further patient distress.

The results of the DNA test must have proven positive as I began to receive visitor requests from people, who were convinced I was a long-lost member of the Silverfoot family, and of course, my memory loss added an extra element of fascination to the mix. However, not being able to tell them the truth did make me feel like a bit of a fraud, but how could I expect them to believe I had been serving as Santa Clause for two centuries and had known all of them as children, especially those who tried to stay awake all night, hoping to prove I did or did not exist. But it became an increasing delight as each day I saw one or more fresh faces, full of excitement and expectation, especially, the inquisitive young children, with whom I was most taken. Many came bearing gifts and soon the Ward I shared with five other patients was overflowing with get-well-soon cards and bunches of flowers. There were so many bunches, they were being shared around adjacent wards, giving pleasure to others who were not so fortunate and I was told, some even made their way to the little darlings in the Children's Ward.

The Present

There was something I discovered about hospitals during my stay, just like the Ice Pole, in the real world hospitals never stop working, it is run by those who are best described as human angels who always have another life to be saved. For example, although my operation was planned for Christmas Eve it went ahead regardless of the celebrations and needs of their families and this was the rule, not the exception, so I guess you will understand why I think of them as angels.

Sometime earlier in the day, Valonia had paid her last visit to me in the ward, it was a merry old time, and everyone was happy, due to the time of year, and although not possible wished they could share a beer. For one last time, she sat on the side of my bed and throughout her explanation of the procedure detailing what was going to happen we held hands, just like a father and a daughter. For me, the experience was truly emotional, for I knew if the operation were a success or a failure this was the last time we would talk. I squeezed her hand tightly and with the other passed her a beautifully wrapped Christmas present and a small, sealed envelope and asked that she did not open it until Christmas Night as was the local tradition, she agreed then smiled and thanked me, albeit puzzled about how a John Doe had managed to arrange it. Pre-empting her thoughts I spoke softly and told her that she was about to give me the most wonderful Christmas present anyone could ask for, offering the chance of a longer and more fruitful life. It had not been my intention to feel self-gratification, but then I'm human and could not help the feeling of a warm glow of joy rising in my soul as I saw the tears welling in her eyes.

During my enforced absence, the little Elves had been extra busy ensuring everything was going to plan even without my presence, and I could be sure that Mother Christmas kept them on their toes, and to keep me happy they visited every night, without fail, using Ice Pole magic. It was a good thing that Ice Pole magic worked every bit as well on adults as did on the crafty children who tried to stay awake. Many children just like Valonia had tried desperately to sleep with one eye open, a surprisingly common ploy that did not work, however clever they thought they were. But despite my role as Santa Clause, at the end of the day, I have human feelings and believed it was only natural for me to take an interest in the children who were born with the name Silverfoot, and Valonia was one of those children. At an early age, she was a remarkably bright and beautiful child, who had the good fortune of being born into a family where money was never a problem, but hers was a family of over-achievers many of whom became obsessed with their family's curse. They were always striving for the greater good and although loving parents they allowed their little girl to get lost in the mist of their charitable obsession. So, it was only natural that she was blinded by emotional confusion and unable to see their love. Craving the attention of her parents she stole her mother's favourite broach and wrapped it up beautifully in green satin paper before standing on the coal shuttle enabling her to reach up and rest it in full view next to the old chiming clock on the ornamental mantlepiece that graced the fireplace. She intended to surprise her mother by giving it to her on Christmas Day, hoping that she would understand how much she needed to be given the same love and affection by the mother she loved, but for some inexplicable reason, the present disappeared overnight so things never happened the way she had planned.

Post Operative Care

I awoke from the operation to find myself in the recovery room, with all sorts of mind-boggling equipment and tubes hanging from me, I had seen Christmas trees decorated with less tinsel, but in truth, the scene was like something from a Frankenstein movie, where I was the monster coming to life. The operation had been a success, for I was already starting to feel well, something I could detect because my desire for food had returned. There was a momentary blur and all the equipment seemed to stop working, but in truth, time had stopped, and the elves had come to collect me. We all have a special connection, it was this that enabled them to detect that I had awoken and was rapidly returning to health, knowing full well that I would soon be handing out instructions. They carefully went to work removing all the complex paraphernalia that kept me alive during the operation but was now redundant as my supernatural healing power returned. On my return to the Ice Pole, there was a great celebration and a great big hug from Ms Clause, she had the meal I required waiting on the table, and everything was piping hot and steaming, and by the time my meal was finished all my wounds had healed and my silver-grey hair was once again hanging over my shoulders, I looked at Ms Clause and said you can't keep a good man down and the soul of young Rusti locked inside her replied, nor a good woman Dando.

When we left the hospital the normal flow of time resumed and very soon the recovery room was in chaos as the crash team responded to signs of lost heartbeat and blood pressure, the crash team stood in amazement as there was no sign of the patient. Unfortunately, but procedurally necessary my disappearance resulted in a long and fruitless investigation, which would remain unresolved and become the subject of a Netflix-made-for-TV movie.

Christmas Night

As for Valonia Silverfoot, she arrived back at her hotel on Christmas Night, shattered by the long and complicated but seemingly successful surgery she had performed on Dando Silverfoot, but as yet she was not about to put all her eggs in one basket and would not leave for home before he was well and truly out of the woods. She took a long shower, dried, and poured herself a well-deserved glass of wine, dressed in her robe and slippers she walked across the room towards her handbag and collected the present the old man had given her. Having respected his wishes, she decided it was time for her to open it, to be honest, she had not paid it much attention since he gave it to her, but now with curiosity, she held it in her hands and examined it in detail, she did not recall why but recognised how its look and feel had an air familiarity. With a sense of trepidation and excitement, she began to open the present, it was only then she noted it had been wrapped in the same style she's developed as a child, but as she looked closer she decided it was wrapped in the same as the manner, she would wrap a present a to this day. This filled her with intrigue but with great self-control resisted the temptation to rush, wishing to savour every moment of the unwrapping. With surgical precision and care, she unfolded the satin and green wrapping, as she did so it released the faint odour of an old fashion perfume. There was no mistaking the familiar odour of that perfume, for it instantly reminded her of her mother, who regardless of the occasion, all but drowned herself in it. With every whiff of the perfume her childhood memories came flooding back as did the tears, filling with excitement she now knew what she would find inside the package. As she peeled back the last of the green and satin wrapping her mother's broach was finally revealed, she spent the next fifteen or so minutes shedding tears until the wrapping paper was sodden. Once recovering what little was left of her composure, Valonia opened the envelope left by the old man and inside was a short-handwritten note.