I Took a Close Friend of the Family to the Emergency Room – and his condition shifted from peaky to barely responsive during the journey.
This individual has long been known as a larger than life figure. Witty, unsentimental – and hardly ever declining to an extra drink. During family gatherings, he is the person chatting about the latest scandal to involve a regional politician, or regaling us with tales of the outrageous philandering of various Sheffield Wednesday players over the past 40 years.
We would often spend the morning of Christmas Day with him and his family, prior to heading off to our own plans. But, one Christmas, about 10 years ago, when he was planning to join family abroad, he fell down the stairs, with a glass of whisky in hand, his luggage in the other, and sustained broken ribs. He was treated at the hospital and told him not to fly. So, here he was back with us, doing his best to manage, but seeming progressively worse.
The Day Progressed
Time passed, yet the stories were not coming like they normally did. He insisted he was fine but he didn’t look it. He endeavored to climb the stairs for a nap but found he could not; he tried, cautiously, to eat Christmas lunch, and failed.
Thus, prior to me managing to don any celebratory headwear, my mum and I decided to get him to the hospital.
The idea of calling for an ambulance crossed our minds, but how long would that take on Christmas Day?
A Worrying Turn
Upon our arrival, he had moved from being unwell to almost unconscious. Other outpatients helped us help him reach a treatment area, where the characteristic scent of hospital food and wind permeated the space.
The atmosphere, however, was unique. There were heroic attempts at festive gaiety everywhere you looked, despite the underlying sterile and miserable mood; tinsel hung from drip stands and portions of holiday pudding went cold on nightstands.
Upbeat nursing staff, who no doubt would far rather have been at home, were moving busily 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 Christmas telly. We viewed something silly on television, likely a mystery drama, and played something even dafter, such as a regionally-themed property trading game.
It was already late, and snow was falling, and I remember experiencing a letdown – was Christmas effectively over for us?
Recovery and Retrospection
While our friend did get better in time, he had in fact suffered a punctured lung and went on to get a serious circulatory condition. And, although that holiday 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 contains some artistic license, I couldn’t possibly comment, but hearing it told each year 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”.
