I Took a Family Friend to A&E – and his condition shifted from unwell to scarcely conscious during the journey.
He has always been a man of a bigger-than-life personality. Clever and unemotional – and not one to say no to another brandy. During family gatherings, he’s the one gossiping about the latest scandal to befall a regional politician, or amusing us with accounts of the notorious womanizing of various Sheffield Wednesday players during the last four decades.
Frequently, we would share the morning of Christmas Day with him and his family, then departing for our own celebrations. Yet, on a particular Christmas, about 10 years ago, when he was supposed to be meeting family abroad, he took a fall on the steps, whisky in one hand, his luggage in the other, and fractured his ribs. Medical staff had treated him and advised against air travel. Thus, he found himself back with us, making the best of it, but appearing more and more unwell.
The Morning Rolled On
Time passed, yet the anecdotes weren’t flowing like they normally did. He insisted he was fine but his appearance suggested otherwise. He attempted to go upstairs for a nap but found he could not; he tried, gingerly, to eat Christmas lunch, and was unsuccessful.
Therefore, before I could even put on a festive hat, my mother and I made the choice 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 guide him to a ward, where the characteristic scent of institutional meals and air filled the air.
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 bowls of Christmas pudding congealed on bedside tables.
Positive medical attendants, who certainly would have chosen to be at home, were working diligently and using that lovely local expression so particular to the area: “duck”.
A Subdued Return Home
When visiting hours were over, we headed home to chilled holiday sides and festive TV programming. We viewed something silly on television, perhaps a detective story, and took part in a more foolish pastime, such as a local version of the board game.
It was already late, and snowing, and I remember having a sense of anticlimax – did we lose the holiday?
Healing and Reflection
Even though he ultimately healed, he had actually punctured a lung and went on to get a serious circulatory condition. And, even if that particular Christmas does not rank among my favorites, it has entered into our family history 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 its annual retelling 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”.