I Drove a Close Friend of the Family to the Emergency Room – and his condition shifted from unwell to barely responsive on the way.
This individual has long been known as a larger than life figure. Sharp and not prone to sentiment – and hardly ever declining to an extra drink. At family parties, he’s the one discussing the most recent controversy to involve a regional politician, or entertaining us with stories of the outrageous philandering of different footballers from Sheffield Wednesday during the last four decades.
It was common for us to pass the holiday morning with him and his family, before going our separate ways. But, one Christmas, about 10 years ago, 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 broke his ribs. Medical staff had treated him and instructed him to avoid flying. So, here he was back with us, making the best of it, but looking increasingly peaky.
The Day Progressed
The hours went by, however, the stories were not coming in their typical fashion. He maintained that he felt alright but his appearance suggested otherwise. He tried to make it upstairs for a nap but found he could not; he tried, cautiously, to eat Christmas lunch, and failed.
Thus, prior to me managing to don any celebratory headwear, we resolved to get him to the hospital.
The idea of calling for an ambulance crossed our minds, but how much of a delay would there be on Christmas Day?
A Deteriorating Condition
When we finally reached the hospital, he had moved from being unwell to almost unconscious. People in the waiting room aided us help him reach a treatment area, where the generic smell of institutional meals and air permeated the space.
The atmosphere, however, was unique. There were heroic attempts at Christmas spirit all around, even with the pervasive sterile and miserable mood; tinsel hung from drip stands and bowls of Christmas pudding congealed on bedside tables.
Upbeat nursing staff, who certainly would have chosen to be at home, were bustling about and using that lovely local expression so unique to the area: “duck”.
A Quiet Journey Back
Once the permitted time ended, we headed home to lukewarm condiments and holiday television. We watched something daft on television, likely a mystery drama, and played something even dafter, 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?
Healing and Reflection
Although our friend eventually recovered, he had actually punctured a lung and later developed a serious circulatory condition. And, although that holiday does not rank among my favorites, it has entered into our family history as “the Christmas I saved a life”.
If that is completely accurate, or a little bit of dramatic licence, I couldn’t possibly comment, but hearing it told each year certainly hasn’t hurt my ego. True to his favorite phrase: “don’t let the truth get in the way of a good story”.