I Took a Family Friend to the Emergency Room – and his condition shifted from unwell to scarcely conscious on the way.
Our family friend has always been a bigger-than-life character. Witty, unsentimental – and not one to say no to an extra drink. At family parties, he would be the one chatting about the newest uproar to befall a member of parliament, or entertaining us with stories of the notorious womanizing of different footballers from Sheffield Wednesday during the last four decades.
We would often spend the holiday morning with him and his family, before going our separate ways. Yet, on a particular Christmas, about 10 years ago, when he was planning to join family abroad, he fell down the stairs, holding a drink in one hand, a suitcase gripped in the other, and broke his ribs. He was treated at the hospital and advised against air travel. So, here he was back with us, trying to cope, but appearing more and more unwell.
As Time Passed
The morning rolled on but the humorous tales were absent like they normally did. He insisted he was fine but he didn’t look it. He tried to make it upstairs for a nap but was unable to; he tried, carefully, to eat Christmas lunch, and did not manage.
Therefore, before I could even don any celebratory headwear, my mum and I decided to take him to A&E.
We considered summoning an ambulance, but what would the wait time be on Christmas Day?
A Deteriorating Condition
By the time we got there, he’d gone from peaky to barely responsive. Other outpatients helped us help him reach a treatment area, where the characteristic scent of hospital food and wind was noticeable.
The atmosphere, however, was unique. People were making brave attempts at Christmas spirit all around, even with the pervasive depressing and institutional feel; festive strands were attached to medical equipment and dishes of festive dessert sat uneaten on bedside tables.
Cheerful nurses, who no doubt would far rather have been at home, were working diligently and using that lovely local expression so particular to the area: “duck”.
A Quiet Journey Back
Once the permitted time ended, we made our way home to cold bread sauce and festive TV programming. We viewed something silly on television, probably Agatha Christie, and engaged in an even sillier game, such as Sheffield’s take on Monopoly.
The hour was already advanced, and snowing, and I remember feeling deflated – had we missed Christmas?
Recovery and Retrospection
While our friend did get better in time, he had truly experienced a lung puncture 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”.
If that is completely accurate, or a little bit of dramatic licence, is not for me to definitively say, 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”.
