I Took a Family Friend to the Emergency Room – and his condition shifted from unwell to scarcely conscious on the way.
Our family friend has always been a larger than life personality. Sharp and not prone to sentiment – and never one to refuse to a further glass. At family parties, he would be the one discussing the newest uproar to catch up with a member of parliament, or amusing us with accounts of the notorious womanizing of various Sheffield Wednesday players for forty years.
Frequently, we would share the morning of Christmas Day with him and his family, then departing for our own celebrations. However, one holiday season, about 10 years ago, when he was scheduled to meet family abroad, he took a fall on the steps, with a glass of whisky in hand, his luggage in the other, and broke his ribs. He was treated at the hospital and told him not to fly. Consequently, he ended up back with us, doing his best to manage, 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 he didn’t look it. He tried to make it upstairs for a nap but couldn’t; he tried, carefully, to eat Christmas lunch, and did not manage.
Thus, prior to me managing to don any celebratory headwear, my mum and I decided to take him to A&E.
We considered summoning an ambulance, but what would the wait time be on Christmas Day?
A Rapid Decline
When we finally reached the hospital, he’d gone from poorly to hardly aware. Other outpatients helped us help him reach a treatment area, where the generic smell of clinical cuisine and atmosphere filled the air.
The atmosphere, however, was unique. There were heroic attempts at festive gaiety all around, despite the underlying clinical and somber atmosphere; tinsel hung from drip stands and bowls of Christmas pudding congealed on bedside tables.
Positive medical attendants, who no doubt would far rather have been 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 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 – did we lose the holiday?
Healing and Reflection
While our friend did get better in time, he had actually punctured a lung and went on to get DVT. And, even if that particular Christmas isn’t a personal favourite, it has entered into our family history as “the Christmas I saved a life”.
If that is completely accurate, or contains some artistic license, 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”.