I Drove a Close Friend of the Family to A&E – and he went from peaky to scarcely conscious during the journey.
This individual has long been known as a larger than life personality. Clever and unemotional – and hardly ever declining to a further glass. During family gatherings, he is the person chatting about the most recent controversy to catch up with a member of parliament, or amusing us with accounts of the outrageous philandering of various Sheffield Wednesday players for forty years.
We would often spend the morning of Christmas Day with him and his family, prior to heading off to our own plans. However, one holiday season, about 10 years ago, when he was scheduled to meet family abroad, he tumbled down the staircase, with a glass of whisky in hand, a suitcase gripped in the other, and fractured his ribs. He was treated at the hospital and advised against air travel. Consequently, he ended up back with us, trying to cope, but appearing more and more unwell.
The Day Progressed
The hours went by, however, the stories were not coming like they normally did. He maintained that he felt alright but his appearance suggested otherwise. He attempted to go upstairs for a nap but was unable to; he tried, gingerly, to eat Christmas lunch, and failed.
Thus, prior to me managing to put on a festive hat, my mum and I decided to take him to A&E.
We considered summoning an ambulance, but what would the wait time be on Christmas Day?
A Deteriorating Condition
Upon our arrival, he had moved from being peaky to barely responsive. Fellow patients assisted us get him to a ward, where the characteristic scent of institutional meals and air filled the air.
What was distinct, however, was the mood. One could see valiant efforts at festive gaiety all around, even with the pervasive depressing and institutional feel; festive strands were attached to medical equipment and portions of holiday pudding went cold on nightstands.
Upbeat nursing staff, who undoubtedly would have preferred to be at home, were working diligently 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 watched something daft on television, likely a mystery drama, and played something even dafter, such as Sheffield’s take on Monopoly.
It was already late, and snowing, and I remember having a sense of anticlimax – did we lose the holiday?
The Aftermath and the Story
Although our friend eventually recovered, he had in fact suffered a punctured lung and subsequently contracted DVT. And, even if that particular Christmas is not my most cherished memory, it has become part of family legend as “the Christmas I saved a life”.
If that is completely accurate, or a little bit of dramatic licence, is not for me to definitively say, but the story’s yearly repetition certainly hasn’t hurt my ego. True to his favorite phrase: “don’t let the truth get in the way of a good story”.
