I Took a Family Friend to the Emergency Room – and his condition shifted from peaky to scarcely conscious on the way.
Our family friend has always been a bigger-than-life personality. Sharp and not prone to sentiment – and not one to say no to a further glass. During family gatherings, he is the person chatting about the newest uproar to catch up with a member of parliament, or amusing us with accounts of the shameless infidelity of various Sheffield Wednesday players over the past 40 years.
It was common for us to pass Christmas morning with him and his family, before going our separate ways. But, one Christmas, some ten years back, when he was scheduled to meet family abroad, he fell down the stairs, with a glass of whisky in hand, suitcase in the other, and broke his ribs. He was treated at the hospital and instructed him to avoid flying. So, here he was back with us, doing his best to manage, but appearing more and more unwell.
The Morning Rolled On
Time passed, yet the humorous tales were absent 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, gingerly, to eat Christmas lunch, and did not manage.
Thus, prior to me managing to placed a party hat on my head, my mother and I made the choice to take him to A&E.
We considered summoning an ambulance, but how long would that take on Christmas Day?
A Deteriorating Condition
Upon our arrival, his state had progressed from unwell to almost unconscious. Fellow patients assisted us guide him to a ward, where the characteristic scent of institutional meals and air was noticeable.
The atmosphere, however, was unique. There were heroic attempts at holiday cheer everywhere you looked, despite the underlying sterile and miserable mood; festive strands were attached to medical equipment and portions of holiday pudding went cold 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 peculiar to the area: “duck”.
A Quiet Journey Back
When visiting hours were over, we headed home to lukewarm condiments and festive TV programming. We viewed something silly on television, perhaps a detective story, and played something even dafter, such as a local version of the board game.
The hour was already advanced, and snowing, and I remember having a sense of anticlimax – had we missed Christmas?
Recovery and Retrospection
Even though he ultimately healed, he had in fact suffered a punctured lung and later developed deep vein thrombosis. And, although that holiday isn’t a personal favourite, it has entered into our family history as “the Christmas I saved a life”.
If that is completely accurate, or contains some artistic license, I couldn’t possibly comment, but its annual retelling certainly hasn’t hurt my ego. In keeping with our friend’s motto: “don’t let the truth get in the way of a good story”.
