I Drove a Family Friend to A&E – and his condition shifted from unwell to barely responsive during the journey.
He has always been a man of a truly outsized personality. Sharp and not prone to sentiment – and never one to refuse to an extra drink. At family parties, he would be the one discussing the latest scandal to catch up with a member of parliament, or regaling us with tales of the notorious womanizing of assorted players from the local club 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. Yet, on a particular Christmas, about 10 years ago, when he was planning to join family abroad, he tumbled down the staircase, holding a drink in one hand, a suitcase gripped in the other, and fractured his ribs. The hospital had patched him up and instructed him to avoid flying. Thus, he found himself back with us, trying to cope, but looking increasingly peaky.
The Day Progressed
Time passed, yet the anecdotes weren’t flowing like they normally did. He insisted he was fine but he didn’t look it. He tried to make it upstairs for a nap but found he could not; he tried, carefully, to eat Christmas lunch, and did not manage.
Therefore, before I could even don any celebratory headwear, my mother and I made the choice to drive him to the emergency room.
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 poorly to hardly aware. Fellow patients assisted us get him to a ward, where the generic smell of hospital food and wind was noticeable.
What was distinct, however, was the mood. People were making brave attempts at holiday cheer all around, notwithstanding the fundamental clinical and somber atmosphere; decorations dangled from IV poles and portions of holiday pudding went cold on tables next to the beds.
Upbeat nursing staff, who no doubt would far rather have been at home, were bustling about and using that great term of endearment so unique to the area: “duck”.
A Subdued Return Home
Once the permitted time ended, we made our way home to lukewarm condiments and festive TV programming. We watched something daft on television, likely a mystery drama, and played something even dafter, such as a regionally-themed property trading game.
By then it was quite late, and snow was falling, and I remember feeling deflated – had we missed Christmas?
The Aftermath and the Story
While our friend did get better in time, he had in fact suffered a punctured lung and later developed DVT. And, although that holiday 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 a little bit of dramatic licence, I couldn’t possibly comment, but its annual retelling has done no damage to my pride. True to his favorite phrase: “don’t let the truth get in the way of a good story”.
