I Drove a Close Friend of the Family to A&E – and he went from unwell to barely responsive on the way.
He has always been a man of a bigger-than-life personality. Clever and unemotional – and not one to say no to a further glass. Whenever our families celebrated, he is the person gossiping about the newest uproar to involve a member of parliament, or regaling us with tales of the outrageous philandering of various Sheffield Wednesday players for forty years.
It was common for us to pass the holiday morning with him and his family, then departing for our own celebrations. Yet, on a particular Christmas, about 10 years ago, when he was supposed to be meeting family abroad, he took a fall on the steps, whisky in one hand, a suitcase gripped in the other, and fractured his 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.
As Time Passed
The hours went by, however, the humorous tales were absent in their typical fashion. He maintained that he felt alright but his condition seemed to contradict this. He tried to make it upstairs for a nap but was unable to; he tried, cautiously, to eat Christmas lunch, and was unsuccessful.
So, before I’d so much as placed a party hat on my head, my mother and I made the choice to get him to the hospital.
We thought about calling an ambulance, but how long would that take on Christmas Day?
A Deteriorating Condition
Upon our arrival, he’d gone from peaky to barely responsive. Fellow patients assisted us help him reach a treatment area, where the generic smell of hospital food and wind was noticeable.
What was distinct, however, was the mood. One could see valiant efforts at holiday cheer in every direction, despite the underlying sterile and miserable mood; tinsel hung from drip stands and portions of holiday pudding went cold on bedside tables.
Positive medical attendants, who certainly would have chosen to be at home, were moving busily and using that charming colloquial address so unique to the area: “duck”.
A Subdued Return Home
After our time at the hospital concluded, we returned home to lukewarm condiments and holiday television. We saw a lighthearted program on television, perhaps a detective story, and played something even dafter, such as a local version of the board game.
By then it was quite late, and snowing, and I remember feeling deflated – was Christmas effectively over for us?
Recovery and Retrospection
Even though he ultimately healed, he had actually punctured a lung and later developed deep vein thrombosis. And, even if that particular Christmas is not my most cherished memory, it has become part of family legend as “the Christmas I saved a life”.
If that is completely accurate, or a little bit of dramatic licence, I couldn’t possibly comment, but its annual retelling 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”.
