I Took a Close Friend of the Family to A&E – and his condition shifted from unwell to scarcely conscious during the journey.
This individual has long been known as a bigger-than-life character. Clever and unemotional – and not one to say no to another brandy. Whenever our families celebrated, he would be the one gossiping about the latest scandal to befall a member of parliament, or entertaining us with stories of the notorious womanizing of different footballers from Sheffield Wednesday during the last four decades.
It was common for us to pass Christmas morning with him and his family, then departing for our own celebrations. But, one Christmas, about 10 years ago, when he was planning to join family abroad, he fell down the stairs, with a glass of whisky in hand, a suitcase gripped in the other, and fractured his ribs. He was treated at the hospital and told him not to fly. So, here he was back with us, making the best of it, but seeming progressively worse.
As Time Passed
The morning rolled on but the stories were not coming in their typical fashion. He insisted he was fine 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.
So, before I’d so much as don any celebratory headwear, my mother and I made the choice to get him to the hospital.
The idea of calling for an ambulance crossed our minds, but how long would that take on Christmas Day?
A Deteriorating Condition
When we finally reached the hospital, he’d gone from unwell to almost unconscious. People in the waiting room aided us get him to a ward, where the generic smell of institutional meals and air was noticeable.
Different though, was the spirit. People were making brave attempts at Christmas spirit in every direction, despite the underlying sterile and miserable mood; tinsel hung from drip stands and portions of holiday pudding went cold on bedside tables.
Cheerful nurses, who no doubt would far rather have been at home, were bustling about and using that lovely local expression so unique to the area: “duck”.
Heading Home for Leftovers
After our time at the hospital concluded, we returned home to lukewarm condiments and festive TV programming. We saw a lighthearted program on television, likely a mystery drama, and took part in a more foolish pastime, such as a local version of the board game.
It was already late, and snowing, and I remember feeling deflated – had we missed Christmas?
The Aftermath and the Story
Although our friend eventually recovered, he had in fact suffered a punctured lung and went on to get DVT. And, while that Christmas does not rank among my favorites, it has become part of family legend as “the Christmas I saved a life”.
How factual that statement is, or a little bit of dramatic licence, I am not in a position to judge, but its annual retelling 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”.