I Took a Family Friend to the Emergency Room – and his condition shifted from peaky to scarcely conscious during the journey.
Our family friend has always been a larger than life character. Clever and unemotional – and not one to say no to a further glass. At family parties, he’s the one discussing the most recent controversy to befall a local MP, or entertaining us with stories of the outrageous philandering of various Sheffield Wednesday players for forty years.
It was common for us to pass Christmas morning with him and his family, before going our separate ways. However, one holiday season, some ten years back, when he was supposed to be meeting family abroad, he tumbled down the staircase, holding a drink in one hand, a suitcase gripped in the other, and fractured his ribs. Medical staff had treated him and told him not to fly. Consequently, he ended up back with us, making the best of it, but seeming progressively worse.
The Day Progressed
The morning rolled on but the humorous tales were absent as they usually were. He maintained that he felt alright but his condition seemed to contradict this. He tried to make it upstairs for a nap but found he could not; 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 get him to the hospital.
We considered summoning an ambulance, but how long would that take on Christmas Day?
A Rapid Decline
Upon our arrival, his state had progressed from unwell to almost unconscious. Other outpatients helped us get him to a ward, where the distinctive odor of hospital food and wind permeated the space.
What was distinct, however, was the mood. There were heroic attempts at festive gaiety everywhere you looked, despite the underlying clinical and somber atmosphere; festive strands were attached to medical equipment and bowls of Christmas pudding congealed on bedside tables.
Positive medical attendants, who certainly would have chosen to be at home, were working diligently and using that great term of endearment so particular to the area: “duck”.
A Quiet Journey Back
Once the permitted time ended, we headed home to chilled holiday sides and festive TV programming. We watched something daft on television, perhaps a detective story, and took part in a more foolish pastime, such as a regionally-themed property trading game.
The hour was already advanced, and it had begun to snow, and I remember experiencing a letdown – had we missed Christmas?
Healing and Reflection
While our friend did get better in time, he had in fact suffered a punctured lung and subsequently contracted DVT. 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 involves a degree of exaggeration, I couldn’t possibly comment, 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”.
