I Drove a Close Friend of the Family to A&E – and his condition shifted from unwell to scarcely conscious during the journey.
This individual has long been known as a bigger-than-life figure. Sharp and not prone to sentiment – and never one to refuse to an extra drink. During family gatherings, he’s the one discussing the latest scandal to involve a local MP, 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 the holiday morning with him and his family, then departing for our own celebrations. Yet, on a particular Christmas, about 10 years ago, when he was planning to join family abroad, he fell down the stairs, with a glass of whisky in hand, his luggage in the other, and fractured his ribs. He was treated at the hospital and advised against air travel. Thus, he found himself back with us, making the best of it, but appearing more and more unwell.
The Morning Rolled On
The hours went by, however, the humorous tales were absent in their typical fashion. He was convinced he was OK but his condition seemed to contradict this. He tried to make it upstairs for a nap but found he could not; he tried, carefully, to eat Christmas lunch, and failed.
So, before I’d so much as put on a festive hat, my mum and I decided to drive him to the emergency room.
The idea of calling for an ambulance crossed our minds, but how much of a delay would there be on Christmas Day?
A Rapid Decline
When we finally reached the hospital, his state had progressed from peaky to barely responsive. Fellow patients assisted us get him to a ward, where the generic smell of institutional meals and air permeated the space.
Different though, was the spirit. People were making brave attempts at Christmas spirit in every direction, despite the underlying clinical and somber atmosphere; decorations dangled from IV poles and portions of holiday pudding went cold on bedside tables.
Positive medical attendants, who certainly would have chosen to be at home, were moving busily and using that lovely local expression so peculiar to the area: “duck”.
Heading Home for Leftovers
After our time at the hospital concluded, we headed home to lukewarm condiments and festive TV programming. We viewed something silly on television, perhaps a detective story, and engaged in an even sillier game, such as a local version of the board game.
The hour was already advanced, and snow was falling, and I remember experiencing a letdown – had we missed Christmas?
Healing and Reflection
While our friend did get better in time, he had actually punctured a lung and went on to get deep vein thrombosis. And, while that Christmas 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 couldn’t possibly comment, but hearing it told each year has done no damage to my pride. True to his favorite phrase: “don’t let the truth get in the way of a good story”.
