I Took a Family Friend to A&E – and his condition shifted from unwell to scarcely conscious on the way.
He has always been a man of a truly outsized figure. Clever and unemotional – and hardly ever declining to a further glass. During family gatherings, he’s the one discussing the most recent controversy to involve a regional politician, or entertaining us with stories of the notorious womanizing 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, then departing for our own celebrations. But, one Christmas, about 10 years ago, when he was scheduled to meet family abroad, he fell down the stairs, with a glass of whisky in hand, suitcase in the other, and fractured his ribs. He was treated at the hospital 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
Time passed, yet the humorous tales were absent as they usually were. He was convinced he was OK but he didn’t look it. He attempted to go upstairs for a nap but couldn’t; he tried, carefully, to eat Christmas lunch, and failed.
Thus, prior to me managing to placed a party hat on my head, we resolved to get him to the hospital.
The idea of calling for an ambulance crossed our minds, but what would the wait time be on Christmas Day?
A Deteriorating Condition
By the time we got there, his state had progressed from peaky to barely responsive. Fellow patients assisted us help him reach a treatment area, where the distinctive odor of institutional meals and air filled the air.
What was distinct, however, was the mood. People were making brave attempts at Christmas spirit in every direction, despite the underlying depressing and institutional feel; festive strands were attached to medical equipment and bowls of Christmas pudding congealed on tables next to the beds.
Upbeat nursing staff, who undoubtedly would have preferred to be at home, were working diligently and using that lovely local expression so peculiar to the area: “duck”.
A Quiet Journey Back
Once the permitted time ended, we made our way home to chilled holiday sides and festive TV programming. We watched something daft on television, likely a mystery drama, and took part in a more foolish pastime, such as a local version of the board game.
It was already late, and snow was falling, and I remember having a sense of anticlimax – did we lose the holiday?
Recovery and Retrospection
While our friend did get better in time, he had truly experienced a lung puncture and subsequently contracted DVT. And, although that holiday does not rank among my favorites, it has become part of family legend as “the Christmas I saved a life”.
How factual that statement is, or involves a degree of exaggeration, I couldn’t possibly comment, but the story’s yearly repetition 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”.
