I Drove a Close Friend of the Family to A&E – and he went from peaky to scarcely conscious on the way.
This individual has long been known as a bigger-than-life character. Witty, unsentimental – and hardly ever declining to another brandy. During family gatherings, he’s the one gossiping about the most recent controversy to befall a regional politician, or entertaining us with stories 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, then departing for our own celebrations. But, one Christmas, some ten years back, when he was scheduled to meet family abroad, he fell down the stairs, holding a drink in one hand, his luggage in the other, and broke his ribs. The hospital had patched him up and instructed him to avoid flying. Consequently, he ended up back with us, doing his best to manage, 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 he didn’t look it. 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, my mother and I made the choice to take him to A&E.
We considered summoning an ambulance, but how much of a delay would there be on Christmas Day?
A Worrying Turn
By the time we got there, he’d gone from unwell to almost unconscious. Other outpatients helped us get him to a ward, where the characteristic scent of hospital food and wind filled the air.
The atmosphere, however, was unique. There were heroic attempts at festive gaiety in every direction, despite the underlying depressing and institutional feel; decorations dangled from IV poles and bowls of Christmas pudding congealed on nightstands.
Positive medical attendants, who undoubtedly would have preferred to be at home, were moving busily and using that charming colloquial address so peculiar to the area: “duck”.
A Subdued Return Home
Once the permitted time ended, we headed home to chilled holiday sides and Christmas telly. We viewed something silly on television, likely a mystery drama, and played something even dafter, such as a local version of the board game.
The hour was already advanced, and it had begun to snow, and I remember experiencing a letdown – was Christmas effectively over for us?
Recovery and Retrospection
While our friend did get better in time, he had actually punctured a lung and went on to get deep vein thrombosis. 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 a little bit of dramatic licence, I am not in a position to judge, but the story’s yearly repetition certainly hasn’t hurt my ego. In keeping with our friend’s motto: “don’t let the truth get in the way of a good story”.
