I Drove a Close Friend of the Family to A&E – and he went from unwell to scarcely conscious during the journey.
Our family friend has always been a truly outsized figure. Sharp and not prone to sentiment – and never one to refuse to another brandy. Whenever our families celebrated, he’s the one gossiping about the most recent controversy to catch up with a local MP, or amusing us with accounts of the shameless infidelity of various Sheffield Wednesday players during the last four decades.
It was common for us to pass the holiday morning with him and his family, prior to heading off to our own plans. Yet, on a particular Christmas, roughly a decade past, 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. Medical staff had treated him and instructed him to avoid flying. Consequently, he ended up back with us, trying to cope, but seeming progressively worse.
As Time Passed
The morning rolled on but the anecdotes weren’t flowing like they normally did. He insisted he was fine but he didn’t look it. He attempted to go upstairs for a nap but couldn’t; he tried, gingerly, to eat Christmas lunch, and was unsuccessful.
Therefore, before I could even don any celebratory headwear, my mum and I decided to take him to A&E.
The idea of calling for an ambulance crossed our minds, but how long would that take on Christmas Day?
A Worrying Turn
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 characteristic scent of clinical cuisine and atmosphere was noticeable.
What was distinct, however, was the mood. People were making brave attempts at holiday cheer everywhere you looked, notwithstanding the fundamental clinical and somber atmosphere; tinsel hung from drip stands and bowls of Christmas pudding congealed on bedside tables.
Positive medical attendants, who certainly would have chosen to be at home, were moving busily and using that great term of endearment so unique to the area: “duck”.
A Subdued Return Home
Once the permitted time ended, we headed home to lukewarm condiments and festive TV programming. We watched something daft on television, likely a mystery drama, and played something even dafter, such as Sheffield’s take on Monopoly.
The hour was already advanced, and snow was falling, and I remember feeling deflated – was Christmas effectively over for us?
Healing and Reflection
Even though he ultimately healed, he had actually punctured a lung and later developed a serious circulatory condition. And, although that holiday isn’t a personal favourite, it has entered into our family history as “the Christmas I saved a life”.
If that is completely accurate, or contains some artistic license, I am not in a position to judge, but hearing it told each year certainly hasn’t hurt my ego. True to his favorite phrase: “don’t let the truth get in the way of a good story”.
