I Took a Close Friend of the Family to A&E – and his condition shifted from peaky to scarcely conscious on the way.
He has always been a man of a truly outsized personality. Witty, unsentimental – and never one to refuse to an extra drink. During family gatherings, he’s the one gossiping about the most recent controversy to catch up with a member of parliament, or regaling us with tales of the shameless infidelity of different footballers from Sheffield Wednesday for forty years.
Frequently, we would share the holiday morning with him and his family, prior to heading off to our own plans. Yet, on a particular Christmas, some ten years back, when he was scheduled to meet family abroad, he took a fall on the steps, holding a drink in one hand, suitcase in the other, and broke his ribs. The hospital had patched him up and advised against air travel. Thus, he found himself back with us, trying to cope, but seeming progressively worse.
The Morning Rolled On
The morning rolled on but the anecdotes weren’t flowing in their typical fashion. 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.
Therefore, before I could even put on a festive hat, we resolved to drive him to the emergency room.
The idea of calling for an ambulance crossed our minds, but how much of a delay would there be on Christmas Day?
A Deteriorating Condition
When we finally reached the hospital, his state had progressed from unwell to almost unconscious. Fellow patients assisted us guide him to a ward, where the distinctive odor of institutional meals and air permeated the space.
The atmosphere, however, was unique. People were making brave attempts at festive gaiety everywhere you looked, despite the underlying clinical and somber atmosphere; decorations dangled from IV poles and portions of holiday pudding went cold on bedside tables.
Upbeat nursing staff, who certainly would have chosen to be at home, were bustling about and using that great term of endearment so unique to the area: “duck”.
A Quiet Journey Back
Once the permitted time ended, we returned home to cold bread sauce and Christmas telly. We viewed something silly 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 it had begun to snow, and I remember feeling deflated – had we missed Christmas?
Recovery and Retrospection
Although our friend eventually recovered, he had in fact suffered a punctured lung and later developed DVT. And, even if that particular Christmas is not my most cherished memory, it has entered into our family history as “the Christmas I saved a life”.
How factual that statement is, or contains some artistic license, is not for me to definitively say, but the story’s yearly repetition certainly hasn’t hurt my ego. True to his favorite phrase: “don’t let the truth get in the way of a good story”.
