I Drove a Close Friend of the Family to A&E – and his condition shifted from unwell to scarcely conscious on the way.
Our family friend has always been a truly outsized character. Clever and unemotional – and hardly ever declining to a further glass. Whenever our families celebrated, he’s the one discussing the most recent controversy to catch up with a local MP, or regaling us with tales of the outrageous philandering of different footballers from Sheffield Wednesday during the last four decades.
We would often spend Christmas morning with him and his family, before going our separate ways. Yet, on a particular Christmas, about 10 years ago, when he was scheduled to meet family abroad, he tumbled down the staircase, whisky in one hand, his luggage in the other, and broke his ribs. The hospital had patched him up and advised against air travel. Consequently, he ended up back with us, trying to cope, but appearing more and more unwell.
As Time Passed
The hours went by, however, the stories were not coming like they normally did. He was convinced he was OK but his appearance suggested otherwise. He attempted to go upstairs for a nap but was unable to; he tried, gingerly, to eat Christmas lunch, and was unsuccessful.
So, before I’d so much as don any celebratory headwear, my mum and I decided to take him to A&E.
We considered summoning an ambulance, but how long would that take on Christmas Day?
A Rapid Decline
By the time we got there, his state had progressed from poorly to hardly aware. Fellow patients assisted us get him to a ward, where the distinctive odor of hospital food and wind permeated the space.
Different though, was the spirit. People were making brave attempts at holiday cheer in every direction, even with the pervasive depressing and institutional feel; decorations dangled from IV poles and dishes of festive dessert sat uneaten on tables next to the beds.
Upbeat nursing staff, who undoubtedly would have preferred to be at home, were bustling about and using that charming colloquial address so unique to the area: “duck”.
A Subdued Return Home
When visiting hours were over, we returned home to chilled holiday sides and holiday television. We watched something daft on television, perhaps a detective story, 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 having a sense of anticlimax – had we missed Christmas?
Recovery and Retrospection
Even though he ultimately healed, he had actually punctured a lung and subsequently contracted DVT. And, even if that particular Christmas is not my most cherished memory, it has gone down in family lore as “the Christmas I saved a life”.
Whether that’s strictly true, or a little bit of dramatic licence, I am not in a position to judge, but hearing it told each year certainly hasn’t hurt my ego. True to his favorite phrase: “don’t let the truth get in the way of a good story”.
