I Took a Close Friend of the Family to A&E – and his condition shifted from peaky to scarcely conscious during the journey.
This individual has long been known as a truly outsized personality. Witty, unsentimental – and hardly ever declining to a further glass. During family gatherings, he’s the one chatting about the latest scandal to befall a regional politician, or amusing us with accounts of the notorious womanizing of different footballers from Sheffield Wednesday during the last four decades.
It was common for us to pass Christmas morning with him and his family, then departing for our own celebrations. Yet, on a particular Christmas, some ten years back, when he was supposed to be meeting family abroad, he fell down the stairs, holding a drink in one hand, his luggage in the other, and fractured his ribs. Medical staff had treated him and instructed him to avoid flying. So, here he was back with us, doing his best to manage, but seeming progressively worse.
As Time Passed
Time passed, yet the stories were not coming like they normally did. He maintained that he felt alright but he didn’t look it. He tried to make it upstairs for a nap but was unable to; he tried, carefully, 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 considered summoning an ambulance, but how long would that take on Christmas Day?
A Worrying Turn
When we finally reached the hospital, he had moved from being peaky to barely responsive. People in the waiting room aided us help him reach a treatment area, where the distinctive odor of institutional meals and air filled the air.
The atmosphere, however, was unique. One could see valiant efforts at festive gaiety all around, despite the underlying depressing and institutional feel; tinsel hung from drip stands and dishes of festive dessert sat uneaten on bedside tables.
Cheerful nurses, who no doubt would far rather have been at home, were moving busily and using that charming colloquial address so unique to the area: “duck”.
Heading Home for Leftovers
After our time at the hospital concluded, we headed home to chilled holiday sides and Christmas telly. We saw a lighthearted program on television, likely a mystery drama, and played something even dafter, such as a regionally-themed property trading game.
It was already late, and snowing, and I remember feeling deflated – had we missed Christmas?
Healing and Reflection
Although our friend eventually recovered, he had truly experienced a lung puncture and later developed DVT. And, even if that particular Christmas is not my most cherished memory, it has gone down in family lore 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”.