I Drove a Family Friend to the Emergency Room – and his condition shifted from unwell to scarcely conscious on the way.
This individual has long been known as a bigger-than-life character. Sharp and not prone to sentiment – and not one to say no to another brandy. At family parties, he would be the one gossiping about the most recent controversy to catch up with a local MP, or regaling us with tales of the outrageous philandering of different footballers from Sheffield Wednesday during the last four decades.
Frequently, we would share the holiday morning with him and his family, prior to heading off to our own plans. However, one holiday season, about 10 years ago, when he was scheduled to meet 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. Thus, he found himself back with us, trying to cope, 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 condition seemed to contradict this. He endeavored to climb the stairs for a nap but found he could not; he tried, cautiously, to eat Christmas lunch, and failed.
Therefore, before I could even placed a party hat on my head, we resolved to get him to the hospital.
The idea of calling for an ambulance crossed our minds, but how much of a delay would there be on Christmas Day?
A Worrying Turn
When we finally reached the hospital, he had moved from being peaky to barely responsive. Other outpatients helped us get him to a ward, where the generic smell of institutional meals and air was noticeable.
The atmosphere, however, was unique. People were making brave attempts at holiday cheer in every direction, despite the underlying sterile and miserable mood; festive strands were attached to medical equipment and dishes of festive dessert sat uneaten on nightstands.
Cheerful nurses, who certainly would have chosen to be at home, were moving busily and using that charming colloquial address so unique to the area: “duck”.
Heading Home for Leftovers
After our time at the hospital concluded, we returned home to chilled holiday sides and festive TV programming. We watched something daft on television, probably Agatha Christie, and engaged in an even sillier game, such as a local version of the board game.
It was already late, and snowing, and I remember experiencing a letdown – had we missed Christmas?
Healing and Reflection
Although our friend eventually recovered, he had truly experienced a lung puncture and went on to get a serious circulatory condition. And, although that holiday does not rank among my favorites, it has gone down in family lore as “the Christmas I saved a life”.
Whether that’s strictly true, or involves a degree of exaggeration, I couldn’t possibly comment, but the story’s yearly repetition 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”.
