I Drove a Close Friend of the Family to the Emergency Room – and he went from peaky to barely responsive on the way.
Our family friend has always been a larger than life figure. Witty, unsentimental – and not one to say no to a further glass. Whenever our families celebrated, he would be the one chatting about the newest uproar to catch up with a regional politician, or regaling us with tales of the outrageous philandering of various Sheffield Wednesday players over the past 40 years.
It was common for us to pass the holiday morning with him and his family, then departing for our own celebrations. Yet, on a particular Christmas, roughly a decade past, when he was scheduled to meet family abroad, he tumbled down the staircase, holding a drink in one hand, his luggage 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, making the best of it, but appearing more and more unwell.
The Day Progressed
The morning rolled on but the stories were not coming as they usually were. He was convinced he was OK but his appearance suggested otherwise. He tried to make it upstairs for a nap but found he could not; he tried, gingerly, to eat Christmas lunch, and was unsuccessful.
Thus, prior to me managing to placed a party hat on my head, we resolved to take him to A&E.
We thought about calling an ambulance, but how long would that take on Christmas Day?
A Deteriorating Condition
Upon our arrival, he’d gone from unwell to almost unconscious. Other outpatients helped us help him reach a treatment area, where the distinctive odor of hospital food and wind permeated the space.
Different though, was the spirit. One could see valiant efforts at Christmas spirit in every direction, despite the underlying sterile and miserable mood; decorations dangled from IV poles and bowls of Christmas pudding congealed on nightstands.
Upbeat nursing staff, who undoubtedly would have preferred to be at home, were working diligently and using that great term of endearment so unique to the area: “duck”.
A Quiet Journey Back
After our time at the hospital concluded, we headed home to lukewarm condiments and Christmas telly. We saw a lighthearted program on television, likely a mystery drama, and took part in a more foolish pastime, such as a regionally-themed property trading game.
The hour was already advanced, and it had begun to snow, and I remember experiencing a letdown – was Christmas effectively over for us?
Healing and Reflection
Even though he ultimately healed, he had in fact suffered a punctured lung and went on to get DVT. And, while that Christmas is not my most cherished memory, it has gone down in family lore as “the Christmas I saved a life”.
Whether that’s strictly true, or a little bit of dramatic licence, I couldn’t possibly comment, but the story’s yearly repetition has done no damage to my pride. True to his favorite phrase: “don’t let the truth get in the way of a good story”.
