I Drove a Close Friend of the Family to A&E – and his condition shifted from unwell to scarcely conscious on the way.
This individual has long been known as a truly outsized personality. Clever and unemotional – and not one to say no to another brandy. At family parties, he would be the one discussing the newest uproar to involve a regional politician, or amusing us with accounts of the notorious womanizing 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 supposed to be meeting family abroad, he took a fall on the steps, with a glass of whisky in hand, his luggage in the other, and fractured his ribs. The hospital had patched him up and advised against air travel. Thus, he found himself back with us, trying to cope, but appearing more and more unwell.
The Morning Rolled On
Time passed, yet the anecdotes weren’t flowing as they usually were. He insisted he was fine but his appearance suggested otherwise. He attempted to go upstairs for a nap but found he could not; he tried, gingerly, to eat Christmas lunch, and did not manage.
Thus, prior to me managing to put on a festive hat, my mum and I decided to drive him to the emergency room.
We considered summoning an ambulance, but how long would that take on Christmas Day?
A Rapid Decline
By the time we got there, he had moved from being peaky to barely responsive. Fellow patients assisted us guide him to a ward, where the characteristic scent of hospital food and wind was noticeable.
What was distinct, however, was the mood. There were heroic attempts at holiday cheer in every direction, even with the pervasive depressing and institutional feel; festive strands were attached to medical equipment and bowls of Christmas pudding congealed on tables next to the beds.
Positive medical attendants, who undoubtedly would have preferred to be at home, were bustling about and using that great term of endearment so unique to the area: “duck”.
A Quiet Journey Back
After our time at the hospital concluded, we headed 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 Sheffield’s take on Monopoly.
By then it was quite late, and snow was falling, 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 a serious circulatory condition. And, although that holiday isn’t a personal favourite, 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 couldn’t possibly comment, but its annual retelling has definitely been good for my self-esteem. In keeping with our friend’s motto: “don’t let the truth get in the way of a good story”.