I Drove a Family Friend to A&E – and his condition shifted from unwell to barely responsive during the journey.
Our family friend has always been a truly outsized figure. Witty, unsentimental – and never one to refuse to a further glass. At family parties, he is the person discussing the most recent controversy to befall a regional politician, or amusing us with accounts of the notorious womanizing of assorted players from the local club for forty years.
We would often spend the morning of Christmas Day with him and his family, before going our separate ways. However, one holiday season, some ten years back, when he was scheduled to meet family abroad, he tumbled down the staircase, with a glass of whisky in hand, suitcase in the other, and sustained broken ribs. Medical staff had treated him and instructed him to avoid flying. So, here he was back with us, trying to cope, but seeming progressively worse.
As Time Passed
The morning rolled on but the humorous tales were absent in their typical fashion. He insisted he was fine but his appearance suggested otherwise. He endeavored to climb the stairs for a nap but couldn’t; he tried, carefully, to eat Christmas lunch, and failed.
So, before I’d so much as put on a festive hat, my mother and I made the choice to take him to A&E.
The idea of calling for an ambulance crossed our minds, but how much of a delay would there be on Christmas Day?
A Worrying Turn
By the time we got there, his state had progressed from peaky to barely responsive. Other outpatients helped us get him to a ward, where the generic smell of institutional meals and air permeated the space.
The atmosphere, however, was unique. One could see valiant efforts at Christmas spirit everywhere you looked, notwithstanding the fundamental sterile and miserable mood; tinsel hung from drip stands and portions of holiday pudding went cold on tables next to the beds.
Upbeat nursing staff, who no doubt would far rather have been at home, were moving busily and using that great term of endearment so unique to the area: “duck”.
A Quiet Journey Back
When visiting hours were over, we headed home to lukewarm condiments and festive TV programming. We watched something daft on television, likely a mystery drama, 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 – was Christmas effectively over for us?
Recovery and Retrospection
While our friend did get better in time, he had actually punctured a lung and later developed deep vein thrombosis. And, even if that particular Christmas does not rank among my favorites, it has entered into our family history as “the Christmas I saved a life”.
If that is completely accurate, or involves a degree of exaggeration, is not for me to definitively say, but the story’s yearly repetition certainly hasn’t hurt my ego. In keeping with our friend’s motto: “don’t let the truth get in the way of a good story”.