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Here's little goodie for your stocking from cyclelops at NeuroTalk (check out the site on my Links list). This is a holiday tale from the point of view of a woman with peripheral neuropathy. Hilarious!

'Twas the night before Christmas', when all through the house,
It was me who was stirring with my computer mouse;
The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
In hopes by tomorrow they’d be warm enough to wear:
The adult children were nestled in their own queen size beds,
While visions of my check book danced in their heads;
And papa in his PJs with three dogs in his lap,
Had just settled down for a long winter's nap,

When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I attempted to move from the bed, to see what was the matter.
Alas, my behind had sunk in the memory foam pad
It took quite rustle, and, I got up pretty mad.

The moon on the crest of the new-fallen snow
Made me dizzy as I scanned for burglars below,
When, what to my half plastered shut eyes should appear,
But a miniature sleigh, and eight tiny reindeer,

With a little old driver, who was hot at the throttle,
I knew in a moment, I took too many pills in the dark, from that bottle.
More slowly than turtles, down the stairs I limped lame,
As he shushed, and whispered, and called them by name:

"Now, DASHER! now, DANCER! now, PRANCER and VIXEN!
On, COMET! on CUPID! on, DONNER and BLITZEN!
We have to be quiet, this woman, don’t wake!
Or I won’t hear the end of it, for goodness sake.

"Her back is ‘a hurting‘, her hands they are numb,
That restless leg syndrome... Who named that? It’s dumb!”
Never the less, we must bring Christmas cheer
She hasn‘t done much shopping, that is evident and clear“.

And then, through that ringing, I heard in my ear
The prancing and pawing of eight tiny reindeer.
As I drew in my hand, and whacked it on the sash,
Down in the family room, I heard a loud crash.

The embers were hot, they had just warmed my feet,
I think I heard a few curse words, that I won’t repeat.
By the time I got down there, everything seemed normal
After all it‘s the Family Room, it isn‘t too formal.

St. Nick, he was toting Lowe Alpine and wearing North Face,
My cheap Wal-Mart PJs were so out of place.
A bundle of tech toys he had dragged down the flue,
A laptop, a cell phone and Blackberry, too.

His eyes -- how they twinkled! his dimples how merry!
The guy never ages and he stays just as hairy!
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
Check neuro.wustl, some odd syndrome, you know?

The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,
He can manage to smoke, not cough, and still breathe!
He had a broad face and a little middle aged belly,
But that pipe and that smoke sure made him smelly.

He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,
I wondered if he had Lipitor or Zetia, at home on the shelf;
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 he looked at me odd,
And filled all the stockings; then gave me a nod,
Aiming his finger, but missing his nose,
Somehow by magic, up the chimney he rose;

I saw a few signs of some neural dysfunction
But he did his job well, and with plenty of gumption
He works only one day per year, and elves do the rest,
I am not complaining, he does do his best.

I went back to my bed and I tried to relax
Took my Ambien, eye drops, and slurped Miralax
Santa had gone high tech, but he still DID exist
Some things can be real, if we just don’t resist.

We might not feel great, we might feel like crap,
But sing this to music and call it a Rap.
Put yourself on Facebook, but here is the rub,
You must have some type of PN, to belong to this club!

As the trendy old Santa sprang to his sleigh,
I knew after MY house he would call it a day.
But I heard him exclaim, as he checked his GPS,
"HAPPY CHRISTMAS TO ALL, MAN, WAS THAT HOUSE A MESS!”