I Drove a Family Friend to the Emergency Room – and he went from peaky to scarcely conscious during the journey.
This individual has long been known as a bigger-than-life character. Clever and unemotional – and not one to say no to an extra drink. During family gatherings, he’s the one gossiping about the newest uproar to involve a regional politician, or amusing us with accounts of the outrageous philandering of various Sheffield Wednesday players over the past 40 years.
It was common for us to pass the holiday morning with him and his family, then departing for our own celebrations. Yet, on a particular Christmas, roughly a decade past, when he was planning to join family abroad, he tumbled down the staircase, whisky in one hand, suitcase in the other, and fractured his ribs. He was treated at the hospital 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
Time passed, yet the stories were not coming as they usually were. He maintained that he felt alright but he didn’t look it. He endeavored to climb the stairs for a nap but couldn’t; he tried, gingerly, to eat Christmas lunch, and was unsuccessful.
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 what would the wait time be on Christmas Day?
A Deteriorating Condition
By the time we got there, his state had progressed from unwell to almost unconscious. Fellow patients assisted us guide him to a ward, where the distinctive odor of hospital food and wind filled the air.
The atmosphere, however, was unique. One could see valiant efforts at holiday cheer all around, notwithstanding the fundamental depressing and institutional feel; tinsel hung from drip stands and bowls of Christmas pudding congealed on nightstands.
Positive medical attendants, who no doubt would far rather have been at home, were moving busily and using that lovely local expression so particular to the area: “duck”.
A Quiet Journey Back
When visiting hours were over, we returned home to chilled holiday sides and holiday television. We watched something daft on television, probably Agatha Christie, and played something even dafter, such as Sheffield’s take on Monopoly.
By then it was quite late, and it had begun to snow, and I remember experiencing a letdown – was Christmas effectively over for us?
Healing and Reflection
While our friend did get better in time, he had actually punctured a lung and later developed a serious circulatory condition. And, even if that particular Christmas isn’t a personal favourite, it has entered into our family history as “the Christmas I saved a life”.
How factual that statement is, or contains some artistic license, is not for me to definitively say, but hearing it told each year 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”.
