I Drove a Close Friend of the Family to the Emergency Room – and he went from peaky to scarcely conscious on the way.
This individual has long been known as a larger than life figure. Sharp and not prone to sentiment – and never one to refuse to a further glass. During family gatherings, he’s the one gossiping about the latest scandal to involve a member of parliament, or regaling us with tales of the outrageous philandering of various Sheffield Wednesday players over the past 40 years.
It was common for us to pass Christmas morning with him and his family, then departing for our own celebrations. But, one Christmas, about 10 years ago, when he was scheduled to meet family abroad, he tumbled down the staircase, holding a drink in one hand, his luggage in the other, and broke his ribs. He was treated at the hospital and instructed him to avoid flying. Thus, he found himself back with us, making the best of it, but looking increasingly peaky.
As Time Passed
The morning rolled on but the anecdotes weren’t flowing as they usually were. He maintained that he felt alright but his condition seemed to contradict this. He tried to make it upstairs for a nap but couldn’t; he tried, carefully, to eat Christmas lunch, and did not manage.
So, before I’d so much as don any celebratory headwear, my mum and I decided to take him to A&E.
We thought about calling an ambulance, but how long would that take on Christmas Day?
A Deteriorating Condition
By the time we got there, he had moved from being poorly to hardly aware. People in the waiting room aided us help him reach a treatment area, where the distinctive odor of clinical cuisine and atmosphere was noticeable.
Different though, was the spirit. One could see valiant efforts at Christmas spirit all around, despite the underlying depressing and institutional feel; decorations dangled from IV poles and portions of holiday pudding went cold on nightstands.
Upbeat nursing staff, who certainly would have chosen to be at home, were moving busily and using that lovely local expression so particular to the area: “duck”.
Heading Home for Leftovers
After our time at the hospital concluded, we headed home to cold bread sauce and festive TV programming. We watched something daft on television, likely a mystery drama, and engaged in an even sillier game, such as a local version of the board game.
By then it was quite late, and it had begun to snow, and I remember feeling deflated – did we lose the holiday?
Healing and Reflection
Even though he ultimately healed, he had actually punctured a lung and subsequently contracted DVT. And, while that Christmas isn’t a personal favourite, it has gone down in family lore as “the Christmas I saved a life”.
Whether that’s strictly true, or involves a degree of exaggeration, I am not in a position to judge, but its annual retelling has done no damage to my pride. In keeping with our friend’s motto: “don’t let the truth get in the way of a good story”.
