I Drove a Close Friend of the Family to the Emergency Room – and his condition shifted from unwell to barely responsive during the journey.
He has always been a man of a truly outsized personality. Sharp and not prone to sentiment – and hardly ever declining to a further glass. Whenever our families celebrated, he would be the one discussing the most recent controversy to befall a local MP, or amusing us with accounts of the notorious womanizing of various Sheffield Wednesday players over the past 40 years.
It was common for us to pass the holiday morning with him and his family, then departing for our own celebrations. However, one holiday season, roughly a decade past, when he was planning to join family abroad, he fell down the stairs, holding a drink in one hand, his luggage in the other, and sustained broken ribs. The hospital had patched him up and told him not to fly. So, here he was back with us, trying to cope, but looking increasingly peaky.
As Time Passed
Time passed, yet the anecdotes weren’t flowing in their typical fashion. He maintained that he felt alright but his appearance suggested otherwise. He endeavored to climb the stairs for a nap but couldn’t; he tried, carefully, to eat Christmas lunch, and did not manage.
Thus, prior to me managing to placed a party hat on my head, we resolved to get him to the hospital.
We thought about calling an ambulance, but what would the wait time be on Christmas Day?
A Worrying Turn
Upon our arrival, he’d gone from peaky to barely responsive. Other outpatients helped us help him reach a treatment area, where the characteristic scent of clinical cuisine and atmosphere was noticeable.
Different though, was the spirit. People were making brave attempts at holiday cheer everywhere you looked, notwithstanding the fundamental clinical and somber atmosphere; decorations dangled from IV poles and dishes of festive dessert sat uneaten on tables next to the beds.
Upbeat nursing staff, who no doubt would far rather have been at home, were working diligently and using that lovely local expression so particular to the area: “duck”.
A Subdued Return Home
After our time at the hospital concluded, we headed home to lukewarm condiments and festive TV programming. We watched something daft on television, perhaps a detective story, and took part in a more foolish pastime, 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?
Healing and Reflection
Although our friend eventually recovered, he had actually punctured a lung and subsequently contracted a serious circulatory condition. And, while that Christmas is not my most cherished memory, it has become part of family legend as “the Christmas I saved a life”.
How factual that statement is, or a little bit of dramatic licence, I couldn’t possibly comment, but hearing it told each year has definitely been good for my self-esteem. In keeping with our friend’s motto: “don’t let the truth get in the way of a good story”.