I Took a Close Friend of the Family to A&E – and his condition shifted from unwell to scarcely conscious during the journey.
Our family friend has always been a truly outsized personality. Clever and unemotional – and not one to say no to another brandy. At family parties, he’s the one chatting about the newest uproar to befall a member of parliament, or regaling us with tales of the shameless infidelity of different footballers from Sheffield Wednesday during the last four decades.
Frequently, we would share Christmas morning with him and his family, before going our separate ways. But, one Christmas, about 10 years ago, when he was scheduled to meet family abroad, he fell down the stairs, holding a drink in one hand, suitcase in the other, and sustained broken ribs. The hospital had patched him up and told him not to fly. Thus, he found himself back with us, making the best of it, but appearing more and more unwell.
The Day Progressed
The morning rolled on but the stories were not coming like they normally did. He insisted he was fine but he didn’t look it. He attempted to go upstairs for a nap but couldn’t; he tried, carefully, to eat Christmas lunch, and was unsuccessful.
Thus, prior to me managing to don any celebratory headwear, my mum and I decided to take him to A&E.
We thought about calling an ambulance, but how long would that take on Christmas Day?
A Rapid Decline
Upon our arrival, his state had progressed from peaky to barely responsive. People in the waiting room aided us get him to a ward, where the characteristic scent of institutional meals and air was noticeable.
Different though, was the spirit. One could see valiant efforts at festive gaiety all around, notwithstanding the fundamental clinical and somber atmosphere; festive strands were attached to medical equipment and portions of holiday pudding went cold on nightstands.
Upbeat nursing staff, who undoubtedly would have preferred to be at home, were bustling about and using that lovely local expression so peculiar to the area: “duck”.
Heading Home for Leftovers
When visiting hours were over, we made our way home to lukewarm condiments and holiday television. We saw a lighthearted program on television, perhaps a detective story, and took part in a more foolish pastime, such as a local version of the board game.
By then it was quite late, and snowing, and I remember feeling deflated – had we missed Christmas?
Healing and Reflection
Even though he ultimately healed, he had truly experienced a lung puncture and subsequently contracted a serious circulatory condition. And, while that Christmas is not my most cherished memory, 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 couldn’t possibly comment, but the story’s yearly repetition 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”.
