I Drove 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 character. Witty, unsentimental – and not one to say no to another brandy. Whenever our families celebrated, he is the person gossiping about the latest scandal to involve a member of parliament, or amusing us with accounts of the outrageous philandering of assorted players from the local club during the last four decades.
We would often spend the morning of Christmas Day with him and his family, then departing for our own celebrations. But, one Christmas, roughly a decade past, when he was supposed to be meeting family abroad, he took a fall on the steps, with a glass of whisky in hand, his luggage in the other, and fractured his ribs. The hospital had patched him up and advised against air travel. Consequently, he ended up back with us, doing his best to manage, but seeming progressively worse.
The Day Progressed
Time passed, yet the stories were not coming in their typical fashion. He was convinced he was OK but his condition seemed to contradict this. He tried to make it upstairs for a nap but found he could not; he tried, gingerly, to eat Christmas lunch, and failed.
So, before I’d so much as don any celebratory headwear, we resolved to take him to A&E.
The idea of calling for an ambulance crossed our minds, but how long would that take on Christmas Day?
A Deteriorating Condition
Upon our arrival, he’d gone from poorly to hardly aware. 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. People were making brave attempts at festive gaiety in every direction, notwithstanding the fundamental sterile and miserable mood; festive strands were attached to medical equipment and dishes of festive dessert sat uneaten on bedside tables.
Cheerful nurses, who undoubtedly would have preferred to be at home, were working diligently and using that great term of endearment so particular to the area: “duck”.
Heading Home for Leftovers
After our time at the hospital concluded, we returned home to chilled holiday sides and holiday television. 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?
Recovery and Retrospection
While our friend did get better in time, he had truly experienced a lung puncture and later developed a serious circulatory condition. And, although that holiday is not my most cherished memory, it has entered into our family history as “the Christmas I saved a life”.
How factual that statement is, or contains some artistic license, I couldn’t possibly comment, but hearing it told each year has definitely been good for my self-esteem. True to his favorite phrase: “don’t let the truth get in the way of a good story”.
