I Drove a Close Friend of the Family to the Emergency Room – and he went from unwell to barely responsive on the way.
He has always been a man of a larger than life character. Clever and unemotional – and not one to say no to a further glass. Whenever our families celebrated, he would be the one discussing the newest uproar to catch up with a regional politician, or entertaining us with stories of the outrageous philandering of different footballers from Sheffield Wednesday for forty years.
We would often spend the morning of Christmas Day with him and his family, then departing for our own celebrations. However, one holiday season, about 10 years ago, when he was scheduled to meet family abroad, he fell down the stairs, whisky in one hand, his luggage in the other, and fractured his ribs. He was treated at the hospital and told him not to fly. Consequently, he ended up back with us, making the best of it, but looking increasingly peaky.
As Time Passed
The hours went by, however, the stories were not coming as they usually were. He insisted he was fine but his appearance suggested otherwise. He tried to make it upstairs for a nap but couldn’t; he tried, carefully, to eat Christmas lunch, and did not manage.
Therefore, before I could even don any celebratory headwear, we resolved to take him to A&E.
We considered summoning an ambulance, but what would the wait time be on Christmas Day?
A Rapid Decline
When we finally reached the hospital, he had moved from being poorly to hardly aware. Other outpatients helped us get him to a ward, where the distinctive odor of institutional meals and air filled the air.
The atmosphere, however, was unique. There were heroic attempts at holiday cheer in every direction, even with the pervasive clinical and somber atmosphere; decorations dangled from IV poles and bowls of Christmas pudding congealed on bedside tables.
Upbeat nursing staff, who certainly would have chosen to be at home, were bustling about and using that lovely local expression so particular to the area: “duck”.
A Quiet Journey Back
When visiting hours were over, we made our way home to cold bread sauce and festive TV programming. We viewed something silly on television, likely a mystery drama, and played something even dafter, such as Sheffield’s take on Monopoly.
By then it was quite late, and snow was falling, and I remember feeling deflated – did we lose the holiday?
Healing and Reflection
While our friend did get better in time, he had in fact suffered a punctured lung and went on to get DVT. And, although that holiday isn’t a personal favourite, it has become part of family legend 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. True to his favorite phrase: “don’t let the truth get in the way of a good story”.
