I Drove a Family Friend to A&E – and he went from unwell to scarcely conscious during the journey.
This individual has long been known as a bigger-than-life character. Clever and unemotional – and hardly ever declining to an extra drink. Whenever our families celebrated, he’s the one discussing the latest scandal to befall a regional politician, or regaling us with tales of the notorious womanizing of assorted players from the local club for forty years.
It was common for us to pass the holiday morning with him and his family, before going our separate ways. Yet, on a particular Christmas, some ten years back, when he was supposed to be meeting family abroad, he took a fall on the steps, with a glass of whisky in hand, a suitcase gripped in the other, and broke his ribs. The hospital had patched him up and advised against air travel. So, here he was back with us, trying to cope, but looking increasingly peaky.
The Day Progressed
The morning rolled on but the stories were not coming as they usually were. He maintained that he felt alright but his appearance suggested otherwise. He tried to make it upstairs for a nap but was unable to; he tried, cautiously, to eat Christmas lunch, and did not manage.
So, before I’d so much as put on a festive hat, 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
By the time we got there, he’d gone from poorly to hardly aware. Other outpatients helped us help him reach a treatment area, where the generic smell of clinical cuisine and atmosphere filled the air.
The atmosphere, however, was unique. One could see valiant efforts at holiday cheer all around, even with the pervasive depressing and institutional feel; tinsel hung from drip stands and dishes of festive dessert sat uneaten on nightstands.
Upbeat nursing staff, who no doubt would far rather have been at home, were moving busily and using that lovely local expression so peculiar to the area: “duck”.
Heading Home for Leftovers
Once the permitted time ended, we headed home to lukewarm condiments and festive TV programming. We viewed something silly on television, perhaps a detective story, and engaged in an even sillier game, such as Sheffield’s take on Monopoly.
By then it was quite late, and snow was falling, and I remember experiencing a letdown – had we missed Christmas?
Healing and Reflection
Even though he ultimately healed, he had in fact suffered a punctured lung and later developed deep vein thrombosis. And, while that Christmas is not my most cherished memory, 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 the story’s yearly repetition has definitely been good for my self-esteem. And, as our friend always says: “don’t let the truth get in the way of a good story”.
