I Drove a Family Friend to A&E – and he went from unwell to barely responsive on the way.
Our family friend has always been a larger than life character. Sharp and not prone to sentiment – and never one to refuse to another brandy. Whenever our families celebrated, he would be the one chatting about the newest uproar to involve a member of parliament, or amusing us with accounts of the shameless infidelity of various Sheffield Wednesday players over the past 40 years.
We would often spend Christmas morning with him and his family, before going our separate ways. However, one holiday season, about 10 years ago, when he was planning to join family abroad, he fell down the stairs, with a glass of whisky in hand, his luggage in the other, and fractured his ribs. He was treated at the hospital and instructed him to avoid flying. Thus, he found himself back with us, doing his best to manage, but seeming progressively worse.
As Time Passed
The morning rolled on but the stories were not coming 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, cautiously, to eat Christmas lunch, and did not manage.
So, before I’d so much as don any celebratory headwear, my mother and I made the choice to get him to the hospital.
The idea of calling for an ambulance crossed our minds, but how long would that take on Christmas Day?
A Deteriorating Condition
When we finally reached the hospital, he’d gone from poorly to hardly aware. Other outpatients helped us guide him to a ward, where the distinctive odor of institutional meals and air permeated the space.
What was distinct, however, was the mood. One could see valiant efforts at festive gaiety all around, despite the underlying clinical and somber atmosphere; decorations dangled from IV poles and dishes of festive dessert sat uneaten on bedside tables.
Positive medical attendants, who no doubt would far rather have been at home, were bustling about and using that lovely local expression so peculiar to the area: “duck”.
A Subdued Return Home
After our time at the hospital concluded, we made our way home to cold bread sauce and Christmas telly. We viewed something silly on television, likely a mystery drama, and took part in a more foolish pastime, such as a regionally-themed property trading game.
By then it was quite late, and snow was falling, and I remember experiencing a letdown – was Christmas effectively over for us?
The Aftermath and the Story
Although our friend eventually recovered, he had truly experienced a lung puncture and went on to get a serious circulatory condition. And, while that Christmas is not my most cherished memory, it has entered into our family history as “the Christmas I saved a life”.
How factual that statement is, 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. And, as our friend always says: “don’t let the truth get in the way of a good story”.