I Took a Close Friend of the Family to A&E – and he went from unwell to scarcely conscious on the way.
He has always been a man of a truly outsized figure. Witty, unsentimental – and never one to refuse to a further glass. Whenever our families celebrated, he is the person chatting about the latest scandal to befall a member of parliament, or entertaining us with stories of the notorious womanizing of different footballers from Sheffield Wednesday over the past 40 years.
It was common for us to pass the holiday morning with him and his family, prior to heading off to our own plans. But, one Christmas, some ten years back, when he was planning to join family abroad, he took a fall on the steps, whisky in one hand, a suitcase gripped in the other, and fractured his ribs. He was treated at the hospital and advised against air travel. So, here he was back with us, doing his best to manage, but seeming progressively worse.
The Day Progressed
The hours went by, however, the stories were not coming as they usually were. He insisted he was fine but his condition seemed to contradict this. He endeavored to climb the stairs for a nap but was unable to; he tried, carefully, to eat Christmas lunch, and was unsuccessful.
So, before I’d so much as placed a party hat on my head, my mum and I decided to drive him to the emergency room.
We considered summoning an ambulance, but how much of a delay would there be on Christmas Day?
A Worrying Turn
Upon our arrival, he had moved from being peaky to barely responsive. Fellow patients assisted us guide him to a ward, where the characteristic scent of clinical cuisine and atmosphere permeated the space.
Different though, was the spirit. One could see valiant efforts at holiday cheer all around, even with the pervasive clinical and somber atmosphere; decorations dangled from IV poles and portions of holiday pudding went cold on tables next to the beds.
Upbeat nursing staff, who certainly would have chosen to be at home, were moving busily and using that charming colloquial address so particular to the area: “duck”.
A Quiet Journey Back
After our time at the hospital concluded, we returned home to chilled holiday sides and festive TV programming. We saw a lighthearted program on television, likely a mystery drama, and played something even dafter, such as a regionally-themed property trading game.
The hour was already advanced, and snow was falling, and I remember having a sense of anticlimax – was Christmas effectively over for us?
Healing and Reflection
Even though he ultimately healed, he had actually punctured a lung and went on to get DVT. And, while that Christmas isn’t a personal favourite, it has become part of family legend as “the Christmas I saved a life”.
Whether that’s strictly true, or contains some artistic license, I couldn’t possibly comment, but its annual retelling has done no damage to my pride. In keeping with our friend’s motto: “don’t let the truth get in the way of a good story”.
