I Drove a Family Friend to A&E – and he went from peaky to scarcely conscious on the way.
Our family friend has always been a truly outsized character. Clever and unemotional – and not one to say no to an extra drink. Whenever our families celebrated, he’s the one discussing the most recent controversy to befall a regional politician, 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 holiday morning with him and his family, then departing for our own celebrations. However, one holiday season, some ten years back, when he was planning to join family abroad, he tumbled down the staircase, with a glass of whisky in hand, suitcase in the other, and sustained broken ribs. Medical staff had treated him and advised against air travel. Consequently, he ended up back with us, doing his best to manage, but looking increasingly peaky.
The Day Progressed
The hours went by, however, the humorous tales were absent like they normally did. He was convinced he was OK but he didn’t look it. He tried to make it upstairs for a nap but couldn’t; he tried, carefully, to eat Christmas lunch, and was unsuccessful.
Therefore, before I could even don any celebratory headwear, we resolved to drive him to the emergency room.
We considered summoning an ambulance, but how long would that take on Christmas Day?
A Worrying Turn
Upon our arrival, he had moved from being peaky to barely responsive. Fellow patients assisted us get him to a ward, where the characteristic scent of hospital food and wind was noticeable.
What was distinct, however, was the mood. People were making brave attempts at festive gaiety 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.
Positive medical attendants, who certainly would have chosen to be at home, were bustling about and using that lovely local expression so unique to the area: “duck”.
Heading Home for Leftovers
After our time at the hospital concluded, we made our way home to chilled holiday sides and festive TV programming. We saw a lighthearted program on television, likely a mystery drama, and took part in a more foolish pastime, such as a local version of the board game.
The hour was already advanced, and snowing, and I remember experiencing a letdown – had we missed Christmas?
Healing and Reflection
Even though he ultimately healed, he had actually punctured a lung and subsequently contracted deep vein thrombosis. And, even if that particular Christmas is not my most cherished memory, 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 hearing it told each year has done no damage to my pride. True to his favorite phrase: “don’t let the truth get in the way of a good story”.
