by J. Phillips
(COPD – CF is a chronic obstructive pulmonary disease)
‘Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the house, Not a creature was stirring, ‘cept me and my spouse. If you’re wondering why, let me do some explaining. We were doing a thing called bronchial draining.
There I was on my slant board, she on her knees, Pounding my chest, While I lie there and wheeze. When all of a sudden there arose such a clatter, We ran to the window to see what was the matter.
Imagine our surprise to see out in the yard, An old guy doubled over and coughing real hard. He had a long white beard and shiny black boots, A pack full of packages, and he wore a red suit.
As we stared, he stood up, and looking at me, Said, “I, too, am a victim of COPD. I’ve been wondering each year when I’m out with my pack. If someone would catch me when I have an attack.”
“I guess I am just getting old, “said he, “And I’ll soon be on Social Security.” Come on in Santa, and you’ll soon be elated. Let me tell you about being rehabilitated.
Put yourself in the hands of the rehab team, Pay attention and quickly you’ll be back on the beam. The things they will teach you will bring you success, Things like breathing and coughing and handling stress.
You’ll exercise properly, treadmill and weights, What a change to be seen in your physical state. You’ll eat only good things, watching the pounds , It’ll be a lot easier, making your rounds.
So please Mr. Santa, give rehab a whirl, Think of how much your health means to the kids of the world. He said, ” Why you’re right the message is clear, Rehab is the answer, I’ll do it this year.”
And laying a finger on the side of his nose, Controlling his cough, up the chimney he rose. Using diaphragm breathing, he got on his sleigh, With a loud “Merry Christmas!” he went on his way.