I Took a Close Friend of the Family to A&E – and his condition shifted from peaky to scarcely conscious during the journey.
Our family friend has always been a truly outsized character. Witty, unsentimental – and never one to refuse to an extra drink. At family parties, he would be the one gossiping about the latest scandal to catch up with a local MP, or regaling us with tales of the outrageous philandering of various Sheffield Wednesday players over the past 40 years.
Frequently, we would share the morning of Christmas Day with him and his family, before going our separate ways. But, one Christmas, some ten years back, when he was supposed to be meeting family abroad, he fell down the stairs, with a glass of whisky in hand, suitcase in the other, and broke his ribs. Medical staff had treated him and advised against air travel. Thus, he found himself back with us, making the best of it, but looking increasingly peaky.
The Morning Rolled On
The morning rolled on but the humorous tales were absent in their typical fashion. He insisted he was fine but his appearance suggested otherwise. He attempted to go upstairs for a nap but found he could not; he tried, gingerly, to eat Christmas lunch, and was unsuccessful.
So, before I’d so much as placed a party hat on my head, we resolved to drive him to the emergency room.
The idea of calling for an ambulance crossed our minds, but what would the wait time be on Christmas Day?
A Rapid Decline
Upon our arrival, he had moved from being poorly to hardly aware. People in the waiting room aided us help him reach a treatment area, where the characteristic scent of institutional meals and air permeated the space.
What was distinct, however, was the mood. People were making brave attempts at festive gaiety all around, despite the underlying depressing and institutional feel; decorations dangled from IV poles and dishes of festive dessert sat uneaten on tables next to the beds.
Upbeat nursing staff, who undoubtedly would have preferred to be at home, were moving busily and using that great term of endearment so peculiar to the area: “duck”.
A Quiet Journey Back
After our time at the hospital concluded, we headed home to cold bread sauce and festive TV programming. We saw a lighthearted program on television, perhaps a detective story, and engaged in an even sillier game, such as a local version of the board game.
By then it was quite late, and it had begun to snow, and I remember experiencing a letdown – did we lose the holiday?
Recovery and Retrospection
Although our friend eventually recovered, he had truly experienced a lung puncture and subsequently contracted a serious circulatory condition. And, while that Christmas isn’t a personal favourite, it has gone down in family lore as “the Christmas I saved a life”.
If that is completely accurate, or contains some artistic license, I am not in a position to judge, but the story’s yearly repetition has done no damage to my pride. True to his favorite phrase: “don’t let the truth get in the way of a good story”.
