I Took a Close Friend of the Family to A&E – and his condition shifted from unwell to scarcely conscious on the way.
This individual has long been known as a larger than life personality. Witty, unsentimental – and not one to say no to a further glass. During family gatherings, he would be the one discussing the latest scandal to befall a member of parliament, or amusing us with accounts of the shameless infidelity of different footballers from Sheffield Wednesday over the past 40 years.
It was common for us to pass Christmas morning with him and his family, then departing for our own celebrations. But, one Christmas, about 10 years ago, when he was planning to join family abroad, he took a fall on the steps, whisky in one hand, suitcase in the other, and fractured his ribs. The hospital had patched him up and advised against air travel. Consequently, he ended up back with us, trying to cope, but looking increasingly peaky.
As Time Passed
The morning rolled on but the humorous tales were absent in their typical fashion. He was convinced he was OK but he didn’t look it. He attempted to go upstairs for a nap but found he could not; he tried, cautiously, to eat Christmas lunch, and did not manage.
So, before I’d so much as put on a festive hat, my mum and I decided to drive him to the emergency room.
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 unwell to almost unconscious. Fellow patients assisted us guide him to a ward, where the characteristic scent of institutional meals and air permeated the space.
The atmosphere, however, was unique. One could see valiant efforts at festive gaiety all around, despite the underlying sterile and miserable mood; festive strands were attached to medical equipment and portions of holiday pudding went cold on bedside tables.
Cheerful nurses, who certainly would have chosen to be at home, were moving busily and using that great term of endearment so peculiar to the area: “duck”.
A Quiet Journey Back
When visiting hours were over, we headed home to cold bread sauce and Christmas telly. We saw a lighthearted program on television, perhaps a detective story, and engaged in an even sillier game, such as a regionally-themed property trading game.
The hour was already advanced, and snow was falling, and I remember feeling deflated – did we lose the holiday?
Healing and Reflection
Although our friend eventually recovered, he had truly experienced a lung puncture and subsequently contracted DVT. And, while that Christmas isn’t a personal favourite, it has entered into our family history as “the Christmas I saved a life”.
How factual that statement is, or contains some artistic license, I couldn’t possibly comment, 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”.
