I Drove a Family Friend to A&E – and his condition shifted from peaky to barely responsive during the journey.
Our family friend has always been a larger than life figure. Witty, unsentimental – and hardly ever declining to a further glass. At family parties, he’s the one gossiping about the newest uproar to involve a local MP, or amusing us with accounts of the notorious womanizing of various Sheffield Wednesday players over the past 40 years.
Frequently, we would share Christmas morning with him and his family, prior to heading off to our own plans. But, one Christmas, roughly a decade past, when he was supposed to be meeting family abroad, he tumbled down the staircase, whisky in one hand, suitcase in the other, and sustained broken ribs. Medical staff had treated him and told him not to fly. Thus, he found himself back with us, trying to cope, but appearing more and more unwell.
The Day Progressed
The hours went by, however, 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 was unable to; he tried, cautiously, to eat Christmas lunch, and was unsuccessful.
Therefore, before I could even don any celebratory headwear, my mother and I made the choice to take him to A&E.
We thought about calling an ambulance, but how long would that take on Christmas Day?
A Worrying Turn
When we finally reached the hospital, his state had progressed from peaky to barely responsive. Fellow patients assisted us guide him to a ward, where the generic smell of institutional meals and air permeated the space.
What was distinct, however, was the mood. One could see valiant efforts at holiday cheer everywhere you looked, despite the underlying depressing and institutional feel; festive strands were attached to medical equipment and bowls of Christmas pudding congealed on tables next to the beds.
Upbeat nursing staff, who certainly would have chosen to be at home, were moving busily and using that charming colloquial address so particular to the area: “duck”.
A Quiet Journey Back
Once the permitted time ended, we returned home to chilled holiday sides and holiday television. We watched something daft on television, perhaps a detective story, and engaged in an even sillier game, such as a local version of the board game.
By then it was quite late, and snowing, and I remember experiencing a letdown – had we missed Christmas?
Recovery and Retrospection
Even though he ultimately healed, he had truly experienced a lung puncture and went on to get 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 contains some artistic license, I am not in a position to judge, but the story’s yearly repetition certainly hasn’t hurt my ego. And, as our friend always says: “don’t let the truth get in the way of a good story”.
