I Drove a Family Friend to the Emergency Room – and his condition shifted from peaky to scarcely conscious during the journey.
He has always been a man of a truly outsized personality. Sharp and not prone to sentiment – and not one to say no to an extra drink. During family gatherings, he would be the one gossiping about the newest uproar to involve a member of parliament, or entertaining us with stories of the shameless infidelity of different footballers from Sheffield Wednesday during the last four decades.
We would often spend the holiday morning with him and his family, then departing for our own celebrations. However, one holiday season, about 10 years ago, when he was planning to join family abroad, he took a fall on the steps, holding a drink in one hand, a suitcase gripped in the other, and fractured his ribs. The hospital had patched him up and told him not to fly. Thus, he found himself back with us, trying to cope, but looking increasingly peaky.
The Morning Rolled On
The hours went by, however, the humorous tales were absent like they normally did. He insisted he was fine but he didn’t look it. He endeavored to climb the stairs for a nap but found he could not; he tried, carefully, to eat Christmas lunch, and did not manage.
So, before I’d so much as placed a party hat on my head, we resolved to take him to A&E.
We considered summoning an ambulance, but how long would that take on Christmas Day?
A Rapid Decline
Upon our arrival, his state had progressed from unwell to almost unconscious. Fellow patients assisted us get him to a ward, where the generic smell of institutional meals and air was noticeable.
What was distinct, however, was the mood. One could see valiant efforts at festive gaiety all around, notwithstanding the fundamental depressing and institutional feel; tinsel hung from drip stands and portions of holiday pudding went cold on tables next to the beds.
Positive medical attendants, who certainly would have chosen to be at home, were bustling about and using that great term of endearment so particular to the area: “duck”.
A Subdued Return Home
Once the permitted time ended, we returned home to lukewarm condiments and festive TV programming. We watched something daft on television, likely a mystery drama, and took part in a more foolish pastime, such as a regionally-themed property trading game.
It was already late, and snowing, and I remember experiencing a letdown – had we missed Christmas?
Healing and Reflection
While our friend did get better in time, he had actually punctured a lung and later developed a serious circulatory condition. And, even if that particular Christmas does not rank among my favorites, it has entered into our family history as “the Christmas I saved a life”.
Whether that’s strictly true, or a little bit of dramatic licence, is not for me to definitively say, but its annual retelling has definitely been good for my self-esteem. In keeping with our friend’s motto: “don’t let the truth get in the way of a good story”.
