‘Twas the night before Christmas,  I remember it well.
There was no sign of “Merry” as I drew closer to hell.

My feet were encased with a leather-like skin
That cracked and bled where my real skin had been.

My scalp was a snow storm, a blizzard at least,
A savage attack by a titanic snow beast.

Some flakes were so big, they bounced and what’s more,
They formed giant drifts on my dark hardwood floors.

I remember the Christmas ten years ago,
When the Yuletide Spirit had a radiant glow.

But the following year, a shroud had descended,
And our family reunion plan was severely upended.

As their “Papa Bill” I glowed a bright red,
From the end of my toes to the face on my head.

I was “Tinker Bill” to my grandkids’ delight,
As my magical fairy dust spiraled in flight.

The children thought I was a holiday ploy.
To prompt a smile from three girls and a boy.

So I mustered a hearty “Ho Ho Ho”,
To disguise my pain so they would not know.

But to their parents, my kids,  I was not at my best,
So they asked lots of questions — A “Papa Bill Test”.

By the time I was done THEY knew PRP,
And the challenges ahead for Heather and me.

At that very moment I felt terrible despair,
And thought that “next year” I might not even be there.

With a body consumed by a prickly heat,
From the scalp on my head to my swollen red feet.

But two weeks later my feet were all cleared;
The best they had been since the “Red Bastard” appeared.

By the very next Christmas, I could make the admission,
To those who cared: “I’m nearing remission.”