I Took a Family Friend to A&E – and his condition shifted from peaky to scarcely conscious during the journey.
Our family friend has always been a larger than life character. Sharp and not prone to sentiment – and hardly ever declining to a further glass. At family parties, he would be the one discussing the latest scandal to involve a local MP, or entertaining us with stories of the notorious womanizing of various Sheffield Wednesday players during the last four decades.
It was common for us to pass the holiday morning with him and his family, then departing for our own celebrations. But, one Christmas, roughly a decade past, when he was scheduled to meet family abroad, he tumbled down the staircase, holding a drink 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, making the best of it, but appearing more and more unwell.
The Day Progressed
Time passed, yet the stories were not coming in their typical fashion. He was convinced he was OK but his appearance suggested otherwise. He tried to make it upstairs for a nap but was unable to; he tried, cautiously, to eat Christmas lunch, and was unsuccessful.
Thus, prior to me managing to 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 what would the wait time be on Christmas Day?
A Rapid Decline
By the time we got there, he’d gone from unwell to almost unconscious. Fellow patients assisted us get him to a ward, where the generic smell of clinical cuisine and atmosphere was noticeable.
Different though, was the spirit. There were heroic attempts at holiday cheer everywhere you looked, despite the underlying clinical and somber atmosphere; decorations dangled from IV poles and bowls of Christmas pudding congealed on nightstands.
Cheerful nurses, who certainly would have chosen to be at home, were moving busily and using that lovely local expression so particular to the area: “duck”.
A Subdued Return Home
After our time at the hospital concluded, we headed home to chilled holiday sides and holiday television. We watched something daft on television, probably Agatha Christie, and took part in a more foolish pastime, such as Sheffield’s take on Monopoly.
It was already late, and snow was falling, and I remember feeling deflated – had we missed Christmas?
Recovery and Retrospection
Even though he ultimately healed, he had actually punctured a lung and subsequently contracted deep vein thrombosis. And, although that holiday does not rank among my favorites, it has entered into our family history as “the Christmas I saved a life”.
If that is completely accurate, or a little bit of dramatic licence, I couldn’t possibly comment, but hearing it told each year has definitely been good for my self-esteem. And, as our friend always says: “don’t let the truth get in the way of a good story”.
