I Took a Close Friend of the Family to the Emergency Room – and he went from peaky to scarcely conscious on the way.
He has always been a man of a truly outsized character. Witty, unsentimental – and hardly ever declining to another brandy. At family parties, he’s the one gossiping about the newest uproar to befall a local MP, or entertaining us with stories of the notorious womanizing of different footballers from Sheffield Wednesday for forty years.
Frequently, we would share the holiday morning with him and his family, prior to heading off to our own plans. However, one holiday season, about 10 years ago, when he was supposed to be meeting family abroad, he tumbled down the staircase, holding a drink in one hand, a suitcase gripped in the other, and fractured his ribs. The hospital had patched him up and advised against air travel. Consequently, he ended up back with us, doing his best to manage, but seeming progressively worse.
The Day Progressed
The hours went by, however, the stories were not coming as they usually were. He insisted he was fine but his appearance suggested otherwise. He tried to make it upstairs for a nap but couldn’t; he tried, gingerly, to eat Christmas lunch, and was unsuccessful.
So, before I’d so much as placed a party hat on my head, we resolved to take him to A&E.
We thought about calling an ambulance, but how long would that take on Christmas Day?
A Rapid Decline
Upon our arrival, his state had progressed from unwell to almost unconscious. Fellow patients assisted us help him reach a treatment area, where the generic smell of clinical cuisine and atmosphere filled the air.
Different though, was the spirit. There were heroic attempts at festive gaiety in every direction, despite the underlying depressing and institutional feel; decorations dangled from IV poles and portions of holiday pudding went cold on bedside tables.
Upbeat nursing staff, who no doubt would far rather have been at home, were moving busily and using that great term of endearment so particular to the area: “duck”.
Heading Home for Leftovers
When visiting hours were over, we made our way home to cold bread sauce and Christmas telly. We watched something daft on television, likely a mystery drama, and played something even dafter, such as a local version of the board game.
It was already late, and snow was falling, and I remember experiencing a letdown – did we lose the holiday?
Recovery and Retrospection
While our friend did get better in time, he had actually punctured a lung and went on to get a serious circulatory condition. And, even if that particular Christmas 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 contains some artistic license, I couldn’t possibly comment, but its annual retelling 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”.
