After fearing I’d spend Christmas in hospital, I had an idea and began trying to spread some festive magic. By Calli Tully, 26
Pulling on my shoes, I heard my mam call from the hallway.
‘Come on, Calli, we’ll be late!’ she said.
I was 17 and we were heading to my usual check-up at the Freeman Hospital in Newcastle upon Tyne.
I’d been born with a hole in my heart and, while I’d grown up fit and healthy, I still needed regular scans to make sure everything was OK.
The results had always been fine, so I wasn’t worried. But as the doctor studied my latest scan, he frowned.
‘We’re going to need to do an MRI,’ she said. ‘I’m booking you in for one straightaway.
After the scan, the news wasn’t good.
‘A muscle mass has developed,’ the doctor explained. ‘You’ll need surgery to remove it, then close the hole in your heart.’
I felt perfectly fine, so it was a huge shock and I burst into tears.
‘It’ll be OK,’ Mam soothed.
Two days later, I was back in hospital for the operation.
I was scared because surgeons would have to temporarily stop my heart. There was a risk it wouldn’t restart afterwards, or that I’d suffer brain damage.
But when I came round hours later, my doctor said: ‘It went really well.’
I was put on the children’s ward to recover.
‘What if I have to spend Christmas in here?’ I asked my parents.
It was only weeks away and I really wanted to be able to spend it at home.
Looking around at all the poorly children, I felt for them too. Some were recovering from heart operations like me, others were waiting for transplants.
It would be horrible to spend Christmas day in hospital, away from family, I thought.
Thankfully, I was discharged after just two days. And after recovering at home in Dudley, Tyne and Wear, I was well enough to return to my job as a soft play assistant.
When Christmas day rolled around, my family showered me with love and gifts. But I couldn’t stop thinking about the children still on the hospital.
‘I’d really love to give something back,’ I told Mam.
So, I decided to raise money to buy gifts for any children in the hospital the following Christmas.
After appealing to family and friends, I raised £500 in donations.
Over the next year, I went out and bought toys, which I stored in the spare room at home.
I called it Calli’s Heart Campaign.
When Christmas approached the following year, I wrapped all the presents. Then Mam, Dad, and I arranged to visit the ward, packing our car with all the gifts.
‘This is amazing!’ a nurse said, ushering us in.
There was tinsel across the ceiling and some of the nurses were wearing elf hats. I realised just how hard staff worked to bring a touch of seasonal joy to all the youngsters.
I went to each child on the ward, and handed out teddy bears, Barbies, Scooby Doo toys, and even a toy medical set.
'You'll need surgery to remove it'
Giving a Barbie to one little girl, her mum who was sitting beside her, got emotional. She’d heard I’d been on the ward myself.
‘You’re an inspiration,’ she told me. ‘You give us hope.’
Memories of my own time there came flooding back.
‘Thank you,’ I replied, grateful I’d been able to help.
It went so well, I decided to do it every year.
I created a logo for the campaign, and sold branded items including decorations and jewellery to raise more money.
Soon every child got a goody bag too.
As donations poured in, I bought a huge inflatable snowmen and candy cane balloons, so we could create our own winter wonderland to make it even more magical for the children.
I got a professional photographer to snap festive photos of the children too, and Santa and one of his elves also came to give me a hand.
The kids giggled with excitement when they got a hug from the big man himself.
When the COVID-19 lockdowns happened, things became more difficult. I had to drop the gifts off at the door, so they were isolated before the children received them.
But last Christmas, I was allowed back on to the ward, so we set up in the playroom and the children and nurses came to see us.
We still managed to go up to intensive care too — dressed in protective clothing and masks so the children there didn’t miss out.
Over the seven years I’ve been doing this, there have been sad times too.
I was devastated when two gorgeous little girls I’d given gifts to, Leyla and Freya, both 16 months, sadly passed away.
But it’s children like them that make me want to keep going and spreading some festive magic — at what I know better than anyone is such a difficult time.
My life and those of so many other children have been saved on that ward, so I will be back again this year ready to put some smiles on the little ones’ faces.