I Took a Close Friend of the Family to A&E – and his condition shifted 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 an extra drink. At family parties, he would be the one discussing the most recent controversy to catch up with a member of parliament, or regaling us with tales of the outrageous philandering of various Sheffield Wednesday players for forty years.
It was common for us to pass the morning of Christmas Day with him and his family, before going our separate ways. Yet, on a particular Christmas, some ten years back, when he was scheduled to meet family abroad, he took a fall on the steps, holding a drink in one hand, a suitcase gripped in the other, and broke his ribs. The hospital had patched him up and instructed him to avoid flying. Thus, he found himself back with us, trying to cope, but looking increasingly peaky.
The Morning Rolled On
The morning rolled on but the anecdotes weren’t flowing like they normally did. He was convinced he was OK but his appearance suggested otherwise. He endeavored to climb the stairs for a nap but found he could not; he tried, carefully, to eat Christmas lunch, and was unsuccessful.
Therefore, before I could even don any celebratory headwear, my mother and I made the choice to take him to A&E.
We thought about calling an ambulance, but how much of a delay would there be on Christmas Day?
A Deteriorating Condition
Upon our arrival, his state had progressed from peaky to barely responsive. Other outpatients helped us guide him to a ward, where the characteristic scent of clinical cuisine and atmosphere filled the air.
The atmosphere, however, was unique. People were making brave attempts at Christmas spirit all around, notwithstanding the fundamental depressing and institutional feel; tinsel hung from drip stands and portions of holiday pudding went cold on nightstands.
Positive medical attendants, who certainly would have chosen to be at home, were bustling about and using that lovely local expression so unique to the area: “duck”.
Heading Home for Leftovers
After our time at the hospital concluded, we returned home to lukewarm condiments and festive TV programming. We saw a lighthearted program on television, likely a mystery drama, and took part in a more foolish pastime, such as a local version of the board game.
The hour was already advanced, and it had begun to snow, and I remember having a sense of anticlimax – had we missed Christmas?
Recovery and Retrospection
Even though he ultimately healed, he had in fact suffered a punctured lung and later developed a serious circulatory condition. And, although that holiday does not rank among my favorites, 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, is not for me to definitively say, but hearing it told each year has done no damage to my pride. In keeping with our friend’s motto: “don’t let the truth get in the way of a good story”.
