I Drove a Family Friend to the Emergency Room – and he went from unwell to scarcely conscious during the journey.
This individual has long been known as a bigger-than-life figure. Witty, unsentimental – and never one to refuse to a further glass. Whenever our families celebrated, he would be the one chatting 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.
Frequently, we would share the holiday morning with him and his family, then departing for our own celebrations. Yet, on a particular Christmas, some ten years back, when he was supposed to be meeting family abroad, he tumbled down the staircase, with a glass of whisky in hand, his luggage in the other, and sustained broken ribs. Medical staff had treated him and instructed him to avoid flying. Consequently, he ended up back with us, doing his best to manage, but seeming progressively worse.
As Time Passed
The hours went by, however, the anecdotes weren’t flowing like they normally did. He insisted he was fine but he didn’t look it. He tried to make it upstairs for a nap but found he could not; he tried, gingerly, to eat Christmas lunch, and was unsuccessful.
Therefore, before I could even placed a party hat on my head, my mum and I decided to get him to the hospital.
The idea of calling for an ambulance crossed our minds, but how long would that take on Christmas Day?
A Deteriorating Condition
Upon our arrival, he had moved from being unwell to almost unconscious. People in the waiting room aided us help him reach a treatment area, where the characteristic scent of hospital food and wind permeated the space.
What was distinct, however, was the mood. One could see valiant efforts at holiday cheer in every direction, despite the underlying sterile and miserable mood; festive strands were attached to medical equipment and bowls of Christmas pudding congealed on tables next to the beds.
Upbeat nursing staff, who undoubtedly would have preferred to be at home, were moving busily and using that lovely local expression so peculiar to the area: “duck”.
Heading Home for Leftovers
When visiting hours were over, we headed home to chilled holiday sides and festive TV programming. We viewed something silly on television, likely a mystery drama, and played something even dafter, such as a local version of the board game.
The hour was already advanced, and snow was falling, and I remember feeling deflated – had we missed Christmas?
Healing and Reflection
Although our friend eventually recovered, he had truly experienced a lung puncture and subsequently contracted deep vein thrombosis. And, although that holiday is not my most cherished memory, it has entered into our family history as “the Christmas I saved a life”.
How factual that statement is, or a little bit of dramatic licence, I am not in a position to judge, but hearing it told each year 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”.
