I Drove a Family Friend to A&E – and he went from unwell to scarcely conscious during the journey.
Our family friend has always been a larger than life character. Witty, unsentimental – and never one to refuse to a further glass. At family parties, he is the person discussing the most recent controversy to involve a local MP, or amusing us with accounts of the outrageous philandering of different footballers from Sheffield Wednesday for forty years.
Frequently, we would share Christmas morning with him and his family, then departing for our own celebrations. However, one holiday season, some ten years back, when he was supposed to be meeting family abroad, he tumbled down the staircase, with a glass of whisky in hand, suitcase in the other, and broke his ribs. Medical staff had treated him and advised against air travel. Thus, he found himself back with us, trying to cope, but seeming progressively worse.
The Day Progressed
The morning rolled on but the anecdotes weren’t flowing like they normally did. 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, cautiously, to eat Christmas lunch, and was unsuccessful.
Therefore, before I could even placed a party hat on my head, my mum and I decided to drive him to the emergency room.
The idea of calling for an ambulance crossed our minds, but how long would that take on Christmas Day?
A Rapid Decline
When we finally reached the hospital, he had moved from being poorly to hardly aware. People in the waiting room aided us help him reach a treatment area, where the characteristic scent of clinical cuisine and atmosphere filled the air.
Different though, was the spirit. One could see valiant efforts at festive gaiety everywhere you looked, despite the underlying clinical and somber atmosphere; festive strands were attached to medical equipment and portions of holiday pudding went cold on nightstands.
Positive medical attendants, who certainly would have chosen to be at home, were working diligently and using that lovely local expression so peculiar to the area: “duck”.
A Quiet Journey Back
Once the permitted time ended, we headed home to chilled holiday sides and Christmas telly. We watched something daft on television, likely a mystery drama, 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 having a sense of anticlimax – had we missed Christmas?
Recovery and Retrospection
Although our friend eventually recovered, he had actually punctured a lung and went on to get a serious circulatory condition. And, even if that particular Christmas isn’t a personal favourite, it has gone down in family lore as “the Christmas I saved a life”.
If that is completely accurate, or contains some artistic license, I am not in a position to judge, 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”.
