I Drove a Family Friend to A&E – and he went from peaky to scarcely conscious on the way.
Our family friend has always been a truly outsized character. Witty, unsentimental – and never one to refuse to an extra drink. Whenever our families celebrated, he would be the one discussing the most recent controversy to befall a member of parliament, or amusing us with accounts of the notorious womanizing of assorted players from the local club over the past 40 years.
Frequently, we would share Christmas 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 fell down the stairs, with a glass of whisky in hand, suitcase in the other, and broke his ribs. The hospital had patched him up and instructed him to avoid flying. Thus, he found himself back with us, doing his best to manage, but looking increasingly peaky.
The Day Progressed
The morning rolled on but the stories were not coming in their typical fashion. He was convinced he was OK but his condition seemed to contradict this. He tried to make it upstairs for a nap but was unable to; he tried, cautiously, to eat Christmas lunch, and did not manage.
Thus, prior to me managing to put on a festive hat, my mum and I decided to get him to the hospital.
We thought about calling an ambulance, but what would the wait time be on Christmas Day?
A Worrying Turn
By the time we got there, he had moved from being poorly to hardly aware. Fellow patients assisted us help him reach a treatment area, where the characteristic scent of clinical cuisine and atmosphere permeated the space.
The atmosphere, however, was unique. There were heroic attempts at holiday cheer in every direction, even with the pervasive clinical and somber atmosphere; festive strands were attached to medical equipment and portions of holiday pudding went cold on nightstands.
Upbeat nursing staff, who certainly would have chosen to be at home, were moving busily and using that great term of endearment so unique to the area: “duck”.
A Subdued Return Home
When visiting hours were over, we headed home to chilled holiday sides and Christmas telly. We viewed something silly on television, likely a mystery drama, and took part in a more foolish pastime, such as Sheffield’s take on Monopoly.
By then it was quite late, and snow was falling, and I remember having a sense of anticlimax – did we lose the holiday?
Recovery and Retrospection
While our friend did get better in time, he had actually punctured a lung and went on to get 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”.
How factual that statement is, or a little bit of dramatic licence, I am not in a position to judge, but hearing it told each year certainly hasn’t hurt my ego. True to his favorite phrase: “don’t let the truth get in the way of a good story”.