I Drove a Close Friend of the Family to A&E – and his condition shifted from peaky to scarcely conscious during the journey.
He has always been a man of a truly outsized figure. Clever and unemotional – and hardly ever declining to an extra drink. At family parties, he’s the one chatting about the latest scandal to catch up with a member of parliament, or regaling us with tales of the shameless infidelity of assorted players from the local club for forty years.
Frequently, we would share the morning of Christmas Day with him and his family, then departing for our own celebrations. But, one Christmas, some ten years back, when he was scheduled to meet family abroad, he fell down the stairs, whisky in one hand, his luggage in the other, and broke his ribs. Medical staff had treated him and instructed him to avoid flying. Thus, he found himself back with us, making the best of it, but seeming progressively worse.
The Day Progressed
The morning rolled on but the anecdotes weren’t flowing like they normally did. He was convinced he was OK but his condition seemed to contradict this. He attempted to go upstairs for a nap but found he could not; he tried, carefully, to eat Christmas lunch, and failed.
Therefore, before I could even placed a party hat on my head, we resolved to take him to A&E.
We thought about calling an ambulance, but how long would that take on Christmas Day?
A Rapid Decline
Upon our arrival, he had moved from being peaky to barely responsive. People in the waiting room aided us get him to a ward, where the distinctive odor of hospital food and wind was noticeable.
The atmosphere, however, was unique. One could see valiant efforts at festive gaiety everywhere you looked, even with the pervasive depressing and institutional feel; decorations dangled from IV poles and dishes of festive dessert sat uneaten on bedside tables.
Upbeat nursing staff, 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”.
Heading Home for Leftovers
After our time at the hospital concluded, we headed home to cold bread sauce and holiday television. We viewed something silly on television, likely a mystery drama, and engaged in an even sillier game, such as Sheffield’s take on Monopoly.
The hour was already advanced, and snowing, and I remember experiencing a letdown – was Christmas effectively over for us?
Recovery and Retrospection
Even though he ultimately healed, he had actually punctured a lung and went on to get a serious circulatory condition. And, although that holiday 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 the story’s yearly repetition certainly hasn’t hurt my ego. True to his favorite phrase: “don’t let the truth get in the way of a good story”.
