I Drove a Family Friend to A&E – and he went from peaky to scarcely conscious on the way.
Our family friend has always been a truly outsized character. Sharp and not prone to sentiment – and never one to refuse to another brandy. At family parties, he would be the one gossiping about the most recent controversy to befall a local MP, or entertaining us with stories of the shameless infidelity of assorted players from the local club over the past 40 years.
We would often spend the holiday morning with him and his family, prior to heading off to our own plans. Yet, on a particular Christmas, roughly a decade past, when he was planning to join family abroad, he fell down the stairs, whisky in one hand, a suitcase gripped in the other, and fractured his ribs. Medical staff had treated him and advised against air travel. So, here he was back with us, trying to cope, but seeming progressively worse.
The Morning Rolled On
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 attempted to go upstairs for a nap but found he could not; he tried, gingerly, to eat Christmas lunch, and did not manage.
So, before I’d so much as don any celebratory headwear, we resolved to take him to A&E.
We considered summoning an ambulance, but how much of a delay would there be on Christmas Day?
A Deteriorating Condition
When we finally reached the hospital, his state had progressed from poorly to hardly aware. Fellow patients assisted us help him reach a treatment area, where the generic smell of clinical cuisine and atmosphere was noticeable.
What was distinct, however, was the mood. One could see valiant efforts at Christmas spirit in every direction, even with the pervasive clinical and somber atmosphere; decorations dangled from IV poles and dishes of festive dessert sat uneaten on bedside tables.
Cheerful nurses, who certainly would have chosen to be at home, were moving busily and using that charming colloquial address so peculiar to the area: “duck”.
A Quiet Journey Back
When visiting hours were over, we returned home to cold bread sauce and holiday television. We viewed something silly on television, likely a mystery drama, and engaged in an even sillier game, such as Sheffield’s take on Monopoly.
The hour was already advanced, and snowing, and I remember experiencing a letdown – did we lose the holiday?
The Aftermath and the Story
Even though he ultimately healed, he had truly experienced a lung puncture and later developed DVT. And, although that holiday isn’t a personal favourite, it has entered into our family history as “the Christmas I saved a life”.
Whether that’s strictly true, or a little bit of dramatic licence, is not for me to definitively say, but its annual retelling certainly hasn’t hurt my ego. True to his favorite phrase: “don’t let the truth get in the way of a good story”.
