I Drove a Family Friend to A&E – and his condition shifted from peaky to scarcely conscious during the journey.
He has always been a man of a larger than life personality. Clever and unemotional – and never one to refuse to another brandy. At family parties, he is the person gossiping about the newest uproar to involve a regional politician, or amusing us with accounts of the shameless infidelity of various Sheffield Wednesday players during the last four decades.
Frequently, we would share the holiday morning with him and his family, before going our separate ways. However, one holiday season, some ten years back, when he was planning to join family abroad, he fell down the stairs, holding a drink in one hand, suitcase in the other, and fractured his ribs. Medical staff had treated him and advised against air travel. Consequently, he ended up back with us, trying to cope, but seeming progressively worse.
The Day Progressed
The morning rolled on but the stories were not coming in their typical fashion. 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, cautiously, to eat Christmas lunch, and was unsuccessful.
Thus, prior to me managing to don any celebratory headwear, my mum and I decided to take him to A&E.
We considered summoning an ambulance, but how much of a delay would there be on Christmas Day?
A Deteriorating Condition
Upon our arrival, his state had progressed from poorly to hardly aware. Fellow patients assisted us help him reach a treatment area, where the characteristic scent of clinical cuisine and atmosphere filled the air.
What was distinct, however, was the mood. There were heroic attempts at Christmas spirit everywhere you looked, even with the pervasive clinical and somber atmosphere; festive strands were attached to medical equipment and bowls of Christmas pudding congealed on nightstands.
Positive medical attendants, who undoubtedly would have preferred to be at home, were bustling about and using that great term of endearment so particular to the area: “duck”.
A Quiet Journey Back
After our time at the hospital concluded, we made our way home to cold bread sauce and holiday television. We saw a lighthearted program on television, perhaps a detective story, and played something even dafter, such as a regionally-themed property trading game.
The hour was already advanced, and snow was falling, and I remember experiencing a letdown – did we lose the holiday?
Healing and Reflection
Although our friend eventually recovered, he had truly experienced a lung puncture and subsequently contracted a serious circulatory condition. 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”.
How factual that statement is, or involves a degree of exaggeration, I am not in a position to judge, but hearing it told each year has done no damage to my pride. And, as our friend always says: “don’t let the truth get in the way of a good story”.