I Drove a Close Friend of the Family to A&E – and he went from peaky to barely responsive on the way.
Our family friend has always been a truly outsized personality. Witty, unsentimental – and never one to refuse to a further glass. Whenever our families celebrated, he is the person discussing the latest scandal to befall a regional politician, or amusing us with accounts of the outrageous philandering of various Sheffield Wednesday players over the past 40 years.
It was common for us to pass the holiday morning with him and his family, prior to heading off to our own plans. But, one Christmas, roughly a decade past, when he was scheduled to meet family abroad, he tumbled down the staircase, with a glass of whisky in hand, his luggage in the other, and fractured his ribs. Medical staff had treated him and instructed him to avoid flying. Thus, he found himself back with us, trying to cope, but seeming progressively worse.
The Morning Rolled On
Time passed, yet the anecdotes weren’t flowing in their typical fashion. He insisted he was fine but his appearance suggested otherwise. He endeavored to climb the stairs for a nap but couldn’t; he tried, gingerly, to eat Christmas lunch, and failed.
So, before I’d so much as don any celebratory headwear, my mum and I decided to drive him to the emergency room.
The idea of calling for an ambulance crossed our minds, but how much of a delay would there be on Christmas Day?
A Rapid Decline
Upon our arrival, he had moved from being peaky to barely responsive. Fellow patients assisted us get him to a ward, where the distinctive odor of hospital food and wind permeated the space.
What was distinct, however, was the mood. One could see valiant efforts at festive gaiety all around, notwithstanding the fundamental clinical and somber atmosphere; decorations dangled from IV poles and dishes of festive dessert sat uneaten on tables next to the beds.
Cheerful nurses, who undoubtedly would have preferred to be at home, were working diligently and using that charming colloquial address so unique to the area: “duck”.
A Subdued Return Home
When visiting hours were over, we headed home to cold bread sauce and festive TV programming. We viewed something silly on television, likely a mystery drama, and took part in a more foolish pastime, such as a local version of the board game.
The hour was already advanced, and it had begun to snow, and I remember having a sense of anticlimax – was Christmas effectively over for us?
Recovery and Retrospection
Although our friend eventually recovered, he had in fact suffered a punctured lung and later developed 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”.
Whether that’s strictly true, or a little bit of dramatic licence, I couldn’t possibly comment, but hearing it told each year 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”.