I Drove a Family Friend to the Emergency Room – and he went from unwell to barely responsive during the journey.
He has always been a man of a larger than life personality. Sharp and not prone to sentiment – and hardly ever declining to a further glass. During family gatherings, he’s the one chatting about the newest uproar to befall a regional politician, or entertaining us with stories of the outrageous philandering of different footballers from Sheffield Wednesday for forty years.
Frequently, we would share the morning of Christmas Day with him and his family, prior to heading off to our own plans. But, one Christmas, some ten years back, when he was scheduled to meet family abroad, he tumbled down the staircase, holding a drink in one hand, suitcase in the other, and broke his ribs. Medical staff had treated him and instructed him to avoid flying. So, here he was back with us, making the best of it, but looking increasingly peaky.
The Morning Rolled On
The hours went by, however, the humorous tales were absent as they usually were. He was convinced he was OK but he didn’t look it. He tried to make it upstairs for a nap but was unable to; he tried, cautiously, to eat Christmas lunch, and did not manage.
So, before I’d so much as put on a festive hat, we resolved to take him to A&E.
The idea of calling for an ambulance crossed our minds, but what would the wait time 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 generic smell of hospital food and wind permeated the space.
What was distinct, however, was the mood. People were making brave attempts at festive gaiety everywhere you looked, notwithstanding the fundamental sterile and miserable mood; tinsel hung from drip stands and portions of holiday pudding went cold on bedside tables.
Upbeat nursing staff, who no doubt would far rather have been at home, were moving busily and using that lovely local expression so particular to the area: “duck”.
A Subdued Return Home
Once the permitted time ended, we headed home to cold bread sauce and festive TV programming. We viewed something silly on television, perhaps a detective story, and took part in a more foolish pastime, such as a local version of the board game.
By then it was quite late, and snow was falling, and I remember experiencing a letdown – was Christmas effectively over for us?
Recovery and Retrospection
While our friend did get better in time, he had in fact suffered a punctured lung and subsequently contracted a serious circulatory condition. And, although that holiday does not rank among my favorites, it has become part of family legend as “the Christmas I saved a life”.
Whether that’s strictly true, or contains some artistic license, is not for me to definitively say, but its annual retelling 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”.