In a shocking turn of events at Merry Health Hospital this holiday season, an all-out brawl erupted between families of patients and hospital staff over strict COVID-19 protocols, leading to a dramatic reimagining of the healthcare system that has left doctors donning diplomatic caps. It all began around 3 PM on Christmas Eve when Mrs. Thompson, desperate to comfort her husband who was admitted for what doctors initially deemed “unspecified weakness,” stormed the nurse's station like a contestant on a reality show. “My husband can’t even remember his own birthday, and you want me to leave him here alone to get a ‘Covid-free’ carrot cake?!” she shouted, invoking the ire of waiting family members who were also eager to speak to their loved ones. In an unprecedented twist, what started as a simple visitation dilemma rapidly escalated into a full-fledged holiday hostage negotiation. “Nurses on duty had no idea they’d be mediating family disputes straight out of Hallmark movies,” recounted Nurse Linda, who, equipped with a whiteboard and some festive markers, instantaneously became the group’s unqualified therapist and mediator. Under the ghastly fluorescent lights of the hospital, families infiltrated hallways, plotting their next moves like they were part of the Great Christmas Heist, all while anxious doctors wondered if they'd need to initiate an honorary degree in fumbling diplomacy. “It was like an episode of ‘Survivor,' but with way more emotional breakdowns and fewer coconuts,” Dr. Martinez quipped as he navigated a minefield of armchairs, holiday cookies, and extremely upset relatives. As tensions mounted and waiting rooms dimmed, hospital administration decided to take swift action: every doctor was put on "diplomatic duty." Dr. Johnson, known for his way with words and his excellent latte-making skills, was elected as the chief negotiator. “We didn’t sign up for this,” he lamented, “but between families battling over pot roast recipes and the staff trying to maintain sanity, it was either diplomacy or starting an underground Christmas caroling syndicate.” The high-stakes negotiations fluctuated wildly, oscillating between tears of gratitude and shouts of indignation. At one point, a skilled six-year-old with an impeccable knack for bargaining—who insisted on being called “Christmas Negotiator”—managed to bring a temporary truce by promising to share her cookies with the medics in exchange for a few minutes with her grandmother. “It’s all about finding common ground,” she wisely declared. As midnight approached, the makeshift coalition found a breakthrough. A truce was declared, and families could now conduct brief consultations with their loved ones via outdoor window visits—complete with Christmas carols sung through the glass and a rotating cast of relatives acting as the voice of each patient. “It’s the most absurd healthcare to holiday flip I’ve ever witnessed,” Dr. Cheng noted, shaking his head but enjoying a well-earned slice of holiday pie. Merry Health Hospital has now implemented a new “Family Feud Protocol,” combining both health safety and just enough holiday spirit to keep patients and families from forming a coup. Psychologist Dr. Hammersmith was called in to finalize the plans, professing that the newly formed alliance may very well become a model for crisis negotiation in both healthcare and everyday family squabbles. For now, the hospital stands tall, resilient amidst the chaos. With doctors not just healing but negotiating with a flair previously unseen in medical history, it seems this holiday brawl could mark the beginning of a new era where every healthcare crisis turns into a holiday gathering full of laughter, tears, and bargaining chips made of cookies. After all, if they can weather the storm of Christmas Eve demands, perhaps they can solve other conundrums too—like who really deserves the last slice of pie.