I Drove a Close Friend of the Family to the Emergency Room – and he went from peaky to scarcely conscious on the way.
This individual has long been known as a larger than life personality. Sharp and not prone to sentiment – and hardly ever declining to another brandy. Whenever our families celebrated, he’s the one gossiping about the latest scandal to catch up with a regional politician, or regaling us with tales of the notorious womanizing of assorted players from the local club during the last four decades.
Frequently, we would share Christmas morning with him and his family, prior to heading off to our own plans. Yet, on a particular Christmas, about 10 years ago, when he was scheduled to meet family abroad, he fell down the stairs, holding a drink in one hand, suitcase in the other, and fractured his ribs. He was treated at the hospital and instructed him to avoid flying. Consequently, he ended up back with us, making the best of it, but looking increasingly peaky.
The Morning Rolled On
The hours went by, however, the humorous tales were absent in their typical fashion. He maintained that he felt alright but he didn’t look it. He attempted to go upstairs for a nap but was unable to; he tried, carefully, to eat Christmas lunch, and was unsuccessful.
So, before I’d so much as placed a party hat on my head, we resolved to take him to A&E.
We considered summoning an ambulance, but how long would that take on Christmas Day?
A Deteriorating Condition
By the time we got there, his state had progressed from unwell to almost unconscious. People in the waiting room aided us guide him to a ward, where the generic smell of hospital food and wind was noticeable.
What was distinct, however, was the mood. There were heroic attempts at Christmas spirit all around, notwithstanding the fundamental clinical and somber atmosphere; tinsel hung from drip stands and portions of holiday pudding went cold on nightstands.
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”.
Heading Home for Leftovers
After our time at the hospital concluded, we headed home to chilled holiday sides and festive TV programming. We viewed something silly on television, probably Agatha Christie, and engaged in an even sillier game, such as Sheffield’s take on Monopoly.
The hour was already advanced, and snowing, and I remember feeling deflated – had we missed Christmas?
The Aftermath and the Story
Even though he ultimately healed, he had actually punctured a lung and later developed deep vein thrombosis. And, while that Christmas does not rank among my favorites, it has entered into our family history as “the Christmas I saved a life”.
How factual that statement is, or contains some artistic license, I am not in a position to judge, but its annual retelling has definitely been good for my self-esteem. True to his favorite phrase: “don’t let the truth get in the way of a good story”.
