I Drove a Family Friend to the Emergency Room – and he went from peaky to scarcely conscious on the way.
Our family friend has always been a truly outsized figure. Clever and unemotional – and never one to refuse to an extra drink. At family parties, he’s the one chatting about the newest uproar to involve a member of parliament, or amusing us with accounts of the outrageous philandering of different footballers from Sheffield Wednesday over the past 40 years.
Frequently, we would share the morning of Christmas Day with him and his family, before going our separate ways. But, one Christmas, roughly a decade past, when he was planning to join family abroad, he fell down the stairs, with a glass of whisky in hand, a suitcase gripped 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, making the best of it, but looking increasingly peaky.
The Day Progressed
The hours went by, however, the humorous tales were absent as they usually were. 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 failed.
So, before I’d so much as don any celebratory headwear, my mum and I decided to drive him to the emergency room.
We thought about calling an ambulance, but how much of a delay would there be on Christmas Day?
A Rapid Decline
Upon our arrival, he’d gone from unwell to almost unconscious. Fellow patients assisted us help him reach a treatment area, where the characteristic scent of hospital food and wind was noticeable.
The atmosphere, however, was unique. People were making brave attempts at holiday cheer everywhere you looked, despite the underlying clinical and somber atmosphere; decorations dangled from IV poles and portions of holiday pudding went cold on tables next to the beds.
Cheerful nurses, who undoubtedly would have preferred to be at home, were moving busily and using that lovely local expression so particular to the area: “duck”.
A Quiet Journey Back
Once the permitted time ended, we returned home to chilled holiday sides and Christmas telly. We viewed something silly on television, probably Agatha Christie, and played something even dafter, such as a regionally-themed property trading game.
It was already late, and snow was falling, and I remember experiencing a letdown – was Christmas effectively over for us?
Healing and Reflection
Even though he ultimately healed, he had actually punctured a lung and subsequently contracted a serious circulatory condition. And, even if that particular Christmas isn’t a personal favourite, it has gone down in family lore as “the Christmas I saved a life”.
How factual that statement is, or contains some artistic license, 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”.
