I Took a Family Friend to A&E – and his condition shifted from peaky to barely responsive on the way.
This individual has long been known as a truly outsized figure. Clever and unemotional – and not one to say no to an extra drink. Whenever our families celebrated, he’s the one gossiping about the most recent controversy to involve a local MP, or amusing us with accounts of the outrageous philandering of different footballers from Sheffield Wednesday over the past 40 years.
Frequently, we would share the morning of Christmas Day with him and his family, prior to heading off to our own plans. However, one holiday season, some ten years back, when he was supposed to be meeting family abroad, he fell down the stairs, whisky in one hand, suitcase in the other, and sustained broken ribs. The hospital had patched him up and instructed him to avoid flying. Thus, he found himself back with us, making the best of it, but appearing more and more unwell.
The Morning Rolled On
The hours went by, however, the humorous tales were absent as they usually were. He insisted he was fine but his appearance suggested otherwise. He endeavored to climb the stairs for a nap but found he could not; he tried, gingerly, to eat Christmas lunch, and did not manage.
Thus, prior to me managing to don any celebratory headwear, my mother and I made the choice to drive him to the emergency room.
We thought about calling an ambulance, but how much of a delay would there be on Christmas Day?
A Deteriorating Condition
By the time we got there, he’d gone from poorly to hardly aware. People in the waiting room aided us guide him to a ward, where the characteristic scent of clinical cuisine and atmosphere was noticeable.
Different though, was the spirit. People were making brave attempts at festive gaiety everywhere you looked, notwithstanding the fundamental sterile and miserable mood; festive strands were attached to medical equipment and dishes of festive dessert sat uneaten on bedside tables.
Upbeat nursing staff, who no doubt would far rather have been at home, were working diligently and using that great term of endearment so particular to the area: “duck”.
Heading Home for Leftovers
After our time at the hospital concluded, we returned home to chilled holiday sides and holiday television. We viewed something silly on television, likely a mystery drama, and played something even dafter, such as Sheffield’s take on Monopoly.
The hour was already advanced, and snowing, and I remember experiencing a letdown – did we lose the holiday?
Healing and Reflection
Even though he ultimately healed, he had actually punctured a lung and subsequently contracted DVT. And, although that holiday does not rank among my favorites, it has entered into our family history as “the Christmas I saved a life”.
Whether that’s strictly true, or involves a degree of exaggeration, is not for me to definitively say, but its annual retelling has definitely been good for my self-esteem. In keeping with our friend’s motto: “don’t let the truth get in the way of a good story”.
