I Took a Close Friend of the Family to A&E – and his condition shifted from peaky to scarcely conscious during the journey.
He has always been a man of a bigger-than-life figure. Witty, unsentimental – and not one to say no to another brandy. At family parties, he would be the one chatting about the most recent controversy to involve a member of parliament, or regaling us with tales of the shameless infidelity of different footballers from Sheffield Wednesday over the past 40 years.
Frequently, we would share the holiday morning 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, his luggage in the other, and fractured his ribs. Medical staff had treated him and told him not to fly. Thus, he found himself back with us, making the best of it, but appearing more and more unwell.
The Day Progressed
Time passed, yet the anecdotes weren’t flowing like they normally did. He maintained that he felt alright but his condition seemed to contradict this. He endeavored to climb the stairs for a nap but was unable to; he tried, cautiously, to eat Christmas lunch, and was unsuccessful.
Therefore, before I could even placed a party hat on my head, my mum and I decided to drive him to the emergency room.
We considered summoning an ambulance, but how much of a delay would there be on Christmas Day?
A Worrying Turn
When we finally reached the hospital, he’d gone from unwell to almost unconscious. Other outpatients helped us get him to a ward, where the distinctive odor of hospital food and wind was noticeable.
What was distinct, however, was the mood. People were making brave attempts at holiday cheer everywhere you looked, despite the underlying sterile and miserable mood; decorations dangled from IV poles and bowls of Christmas pudding congealed on nightstands.
Upbeat nursing staff, who certainly would have chosen to be at home, were bustling about and using that great term of endearment so unique to the area: “duck”.
A Subdued Return Home
When visiting hours were over, we headed home to chilled holiday sides and Christmas telly. We viewed something silly on television, probably Agatha Christie, 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 feeling deflated – was Christmas effectively over for us?
Healing and Reflection
Although our friend eventually recovered, he had truly experienced a lung puncture and went on to get DVT. And, while that Christmas isn’t a personal favourite, 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, is not for me to definitively say, but its annual retelling has definitely been good for my self-esteem. And, as our friend always says: “don’t let the truth get in the way of a good story”.
