I Drove a Family Friend to the Emergency Room – and his condition shifted from unwell to scarcely conscious on the way.
Our family friend has always been a bigger-than-life character. Sharp and not prone to sentiment – and not one to say no to a further glass. Whenever our families celebrated, he is the person gossiping about the latest scandal to catch up with a member of parliament, or entertaining us with stories of the shameless infidelity of different footballers from Sheffield Wednesday for forty years.
We would often spend the morning of Christmas Day with him and his family, before going our separate ways. However, one holiday season, roughly a decade past, when he was scheduled to meet family abroad, he took a fall on the steps, holding a drink in one hand, suitcase in the other, and fractured his ribs. Medical staff had treated him and advised against air travel. Thus, he found himself back with us, making the best of it, but seeming progressively worse.
As Time Passed
The morning rolled on but the humorous tales were absent 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 found he could not; he tried, carefully, to eat Christmas lunch, and did not manage.
Therefore, before I could even don any celebratory headwear, we resolved to drive him to the emergency room.
We thought about calling an ambulance, but what would the wait time be on Christmas Day?
A Deteriorating Condition
Upon our arrival, he’d gone from peaky to barely responsive. Fellow patients assisted us get him to a ward, where the characteristic scent of institutional meals and air filled the air.
The atmosphere, however, was unique. There were heroic attempts at holiday cheer in every direction, despite the underlying depressing and institutional feel; decorations dangled from IV poles and portions of holiday pudding went cold on nightstands.
Upbeat nursing staff, who undoubtedly would have preferred to be at home, were moving busily and using that lovely local expression so particular to the area: “duck”.
Heading Home for Leftovers
When visiting hours were over, we headed home to chilled holiday sides and holiday television. We watched something daft on television, probably Agatha Christie, and played something even dafter, such as a regionally-themed property trading game.
It was already late, and it had begun to snow, and I remember experiencing a letdown – did we lose the holiday?
Healing and Reflection
Although our friend eventually recovered, he had truly experienced a lung puncture and later developed a serious circulatory condition. And, even if that particular Christmas is not my most cherished memory, it has become part of family legend 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 the story’s yearly repetition has done no damage to my pride. In keeping with our friend’s motto: “don’t let the truth get in the way of a good story”.
