Not All Heroes Wear Capes — But They Do Miss Christmas Dinner It’s New Year’s Eve. Fireworks echo outside the hospital walls. Your phone buzzes with photos of family gathered around the table. You smile, respond with a “miss you too,” and return to your patient’s bedside. For many medical professionals, this is the norm — not the exception. Whether it’s Christmas, Eid, Thanksgiving, or birthdays, healthcare doesn’t close. And while the world celebrates, we show up. Again and again. But what does that constancy cost us? This is the silent toll of working holidays — a deep emotional strain few outside of medicine truly understand. The Unspoken Exchange: Duty vs. Personal Life Every profession has sacrifices, but medicine asks for yours on the days that matter most. Holidays are supposed to be markers of joy, tradition, connection — but for healthcare workers, they become just another shift on the schedule. Missing your child’s first school performance Eating leftovers from the nurses’ station instead of your grandmother’s table Sending video messages from a sterile call room Hearing laughter in the background of phone calls you can’t join And worst of all? You’re expected to endure it without complaint. The Emotional Weight Few Talk About It’s not just about missing a party. It’s about feeling disconnected from life outside the hospital — like you’re watching the world through glass. Guilt for not being with your family Loneliness during moments that should feel warm Bitterness when others forget you’re not off Resentment that your dedication feels taken for granted Numbness that slowly replaces what used to be holiday excitement It adds up — year after year — into quiet grief. A sort of emotional erosion masked by professionalism. How It Impacts Healthcare Teams Hospitals try to rotate holiday coverage fairly, but someone always has to work. And when you're that someone every time? You become emotionally fatigued Your relationships outside of work suffer Your sense of self starts revolving around sacrifice Resentment may build — not just toward the job, but toward the life you’re missing It’s the kind of burnout that doesn’t look dramatic. It looks like a tired smile and saying, “It’s fine, I’ll cover it,” when your heart wants to be somewhere else. Coping Mechanisms That Sometimes Hurt More Than They Help Many healthcare workers try to push through with: Dark humor ("At least the turkey here is IV.") Overcompensating with gifts or overtime pay Numbing out with food, alcohol, or overworking Pretending not to care — which only deepens the ache And while resilience is praised, the truth is: coping isn’t healing. And pretending not to feel doesn’t protect you — it just isolates you. Stories That Echo Across Shifts “I watched my daughter blow out birthday candles over FaceTime. I smiled. Then cried in the stairwell.” “My family stopped asking if I’d make it to holidays. They just assume I won’t.” “I worked 10 Christmases in a row. The last time I was home, my son believed Santa was my patient.” “I gave bad news on New Year’s Day. And then went to the break room to eat stale cake alone.” These stories aren't rare — they’re common. They live in every hospital, every holiday. What Can Be Done? Real Strategies to Make Holidays Less Soul-Crushing Acknowledge the Sacrifice Leadership should validate what staff give up — not just with pay, but with presence, gratitude, and real support. Create Meaningful Celebrations at Work Small things help — shared meals, decorations, holiday music, allowing personal touches in staff areas. Offer Holiday Shift Flexibility When Possible Staff with young kids, or those who worked last year, can be given priority to be off. Fair doesn’t always mean equal — sometimes it means empathetic. Encourage Traditions on “Off-Days” Celebrate with your family on a different day and make it just as special. It's the moment, not the calendar date, that matters. Provide Mental Health Support Around the Holidays Remind staff that it’s okay to grieve, and make therapy or peer check-ins easy to access. Rebuild the Narrative Working on holidays isn’t just sacrifice — it’s service. You’re holding space for people at their most vulnerable, and that deserves deep respect. Rewriting the Narrative Without Romanticizing the Pain Yes, we’re proud of what we do. Yes, we chose this path. But that doesn’t mean we don’t hurt when we miss Christmas morning, family meals, or simply being seen as more than our profession. Let’s stop pretending resilience means being unaffected. Sometimes the strongest thing you can do is admit you’re tired of missing life — and still show up. A Final Thought for Everyone in Scrubs This Holiday Season If you’re working this holiday, know this: You are not forgotten. You are not alone. You are allowed to feel the ache — and still be an extraordinary caregiver. You are holding the line so someone else’s loved one makes it to another holiday. That doesn’t make the pain disappear. But it does make your presence sacred.