I Drove a Family Friend to A&E – and his condition shifted from peaky to barely responsive during the journey.
This individual has long been known as a bigger-than-life personality. Witty, unsentimental – and not one to say no to an extra drink. At family parties, he would be the one gossiping about the newest uproar to befall a regional politician, or amusing us with accounts of the shameless infidelity of different footballers from Sheffield Wednesday for forty years.
We would often spend Christmas morning with him and his family, prior to heading off to our own plans. But, one Christmas, about 10 years ago, when he was supposed to be meeting family abroad, he tumbled down the staircase, holding a drink in one hand, his luggage in the other, and sustained broken ribs. Medical staff had treated him and advised against air travel. Thus, he found himself back with us, doing his best to manage, but seeming progressively worse.
The Morning Rolled On
The hours went by, however, the humorous tales were absent like they normally did. He maintained that he felt alright but his appearance suggested otherwise. He attempted to go upstairs for a nap but couldn’t; he tried, carefully, to eat Christmas lunch, and was unsuccessful.
Therefore, before I could even don any celebratory headwear, my mum and I decided to take him to A&E.
We considered summoning an ambulance, but what would the wait time be on Christmas Day?
A Rapid Decline
When we finally reached the hospital, his state had progressed from peaky to barely responsive. Fellow patients assisted us help him reach a treatment area, where the characteristic scent of institutional meals and air was noticeable.
What was distinct, however, was the mood. People were making brave attempts at Christmas spirit all around, notwithstanding the fundamental sterile and miserable mood; decorations dangled from IV poles and bowls of Christmas pudding congealed on tables next to the beds.
Upbeat nursing staff, who certainly would have chosen to be at home, were bustling about and using that great term of endearment so peculiar to the area: “duck”.
A Subdued Return Home
When visiting hours were over, we headed home to lukewarm condiments and holiday television. We watched something daft 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 snow was falling, and I remember experiencing a letdown – was Christmas effectively over for us?
Recovery and Retrospection
Even though he ultimately healed, he had in fact suffered a punctured lung and later developed a serious circulatory condition. And, although that holiday isn’t a personal favourite, it has become part of family legend as “the Christmas I saved a life”.
If that is completely accurate, or a little bit of dramatic licence, I am not in a position to judge, but its annual retelling 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”.
