I Drove a Close Friend of the Family to the Emergency Room – and his condition shifted from peaky to scarcely conscious during the journey.
Our family friend has always been a bigger-than-life personality. Clever and unemotional – and not one to say no to another brandy. At family parties, he’s the one gossiping about the latest scandal to involve a regional politician, or regaling us with tales of the outrageous philandering of different footballers from Sheffield Wednesday during the last four decades.
Frequently, we would share Christmas morning with him and his family, then departing for our own celebrations. However, one holiday season, roughly a decade past, when he was planning to join family abroad, he took a fall on the steps, whisky in one hand, suitcase in the other, and broke his ribs. Medical staff had treated him and told him not to fly. Thus, he found himself back with us, making the best of it, but looking increasingly peaky.
The Day Progressed
Time passed, yet the stories were not coming as they usually were. He maintained that he felt alright but his appearance suggested otherwise. He tried to make it upstairs for a nap but couldn’t; he tried, carefully, to eat Christmas lunch, and did not manage.
Therefore, before I could even placed a party hat on my head, my mum and I decided to take him to A&E.
We thought about calling an ambulance, but what would the wait time be on Christmas Day?
A Rapid Decline
Upon our arrival, his state had progressed from peaky to barely responsive. Fellow patients assisted us get him to a ward, where the characteristic scent of clinical cuisine and atmosphere filled the air.
The atmosphere, however, was unique. People were making brave attempts at festive gaiety in every direction, despite the underlying clinical and somber atmosphere; decorations dangled from IV poles and bowls of Christmas pudding congealed on bedside tables.
Positive medical attendants, who certainly would have chosen to be at home, were working diligently and using that great term of endearment so unique to the area: “duck”.
A Subdued Return Home
After our time at the hospital concluded, we headed home to cold bread sauce and festive TV programming. We viewed something silly on television, likely a mystery drama, and took part in a more foolish pastime, such as a local version of the board game.
The hour was already advanced, and snowing, and I remember feeling deflated – had we missed Christmas?
The Aftermath and the Story
Even though he ultimately healed, he had actually punctured a lung and later developed deep vein thrombosis. And, while that Christmas is not my most cherished memory, it has gone down in family lore as “the Christmas I saved a life”.
How factual that statement is, or contains some artistic license, I couldn’t possibly comment, but its annual retelling has done no damage to my pride. And, as our friend always says: “don’t let the truth get in the way of a good story”.