I Drove a Family Friend to the Emergency Room – and he went from unwell to scarcely conscious on the way.
Our family friend has always been a truly outsized figure. Sharp and not prone to sentiment – and hardly ever declining to a further glass. During family gatherings, he would be the one gossiping about the newest uproar to befall a regional politician, or regaling us with tales of the outrageous philandering of different footballers from Sheffield Wednesday for forty years.
Frequently, we would share the holiday morning with him and his family, before going our separate ways. But, one Christmas, some ten years back, when he was scheduled to meet family abroad, he fell down the stairs, with a glass of whisky in hand, his luggage in the other, and broke his ribs. Medical staff had treated him and instructed him to avoid flying. Consequently, he ended up back with us, making the best of it, but seeming progressively worse.
As Time Passed
The morning rolled on but the humorous tales were absent as they usually were. He maintained that he felt alright but he didn’t look it. He tried to make it upstairs for a nap but was unable to; he tried, carefully, to eat Christmas lunch, and was unsuccessful.
Therefore, before I could even placed a party hat on my head, my mother and I made the choice to take him to A&E.
We thought about calling an ambulance, but how long would that take on Christmas Day?
A Rapid Decline
When we finally reached the hospital, his state had progressed from poorly to hardly aware. People in the waiting room aided us get him to a ward, where the distinctive odor of clinical cuisine and atmosphere was noticeable.
The atmosphere, however, was unique. People were making brave attempts at holiday cheer in every direction, even with the pervasive clinical and somber atmosphere; festive strands were attached to medical equipment and dishes of festive dessert sat uneaten on bedside tables.
Cheerful nurses, who certainly would have chosen to be at home, were moving busily and using that charming colloquial address so unique to the area: “duck”.
A Quiet Journey Back
When visiting hours were over, we returned home to lukewarm condiments and Christmas telly. We watched something daft on television, likely a mystery drama, and engaged in an even sillier game, such as a regionally-themed property trading game.
The hour was already advanced, and snowing, and I remember experiencing a letdown – did we lose the holiday?
The Aftermath and the Story
Even though he ultimately healed, he had in fact suffered a punctured lung and went on to get DVT. And, while that Christmas 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 involves a degree of exaggeration, is not for me to definitively say, but its annual retelling 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”.