I Drove a Close Friend of the Family to the Emergency Room – and he went from unwell to barely responsive during the journey.
This individual has long been known as a bigger-than-life figure. Witty, unsentimental – and not one to say no to another brandy. At family parties, he is the person discussing the newest uproar to involve a regional politician, or entertaining us with stories of the notorious womanizing of assorted players from the local club during the last four decades.
It was common for us to pass the morning of Christmas Day with him and his family, then departing for our own celebrations. However, one holiday season, roughly a decade past, when he was scheduled to meet family abroad, he tumbled down the staircase, holding a drink in one hand, his luggage in the other, and broke his ribs. He was treated at the hospital and instructed him to avoid flying. Thus, he found himself back with us, making the best of it, but appearing more and more unwell.
The Day Progressed
The morning rolled on but the humorous tales were absent like they normally did. He was convinced he was OK but his appearance suggested otherwise. He tried to make it upstairs for a nap but found he could not; he tried, carefully, to eat Christmas lunch, and did not manage.
Thus, prior to me managing to placed a party hat on my head, my mother and I made the choice to take him to A&E.
The idea of calling for an ambulance crossed our minds, but how much of a delay would there be on Christmas Day?
A Deteriorating Condition
When we finally reached the hospital, he’d gone from unwell to almost unconscious. People in the waiting room aided us guide him to a ward, where the generic smell of institutional meals and air permeated the space.
Different though, was the spirit. One could see valiant efforts at festive gaiety in every direction, notwithstanding the fundamental clinical and somber atmosphere; festive strands were attached to medical equipment and portions of holiday pudding went cold on tables next to the beds.
Positive medical attendants, who no doubt would far rather have been at home, were working diligently and using that great term of endearment so particular to the area: “duck”.
A Subdued Return Home
When visiting hours were over, we headed home to chilled holiday sides and holiday television. We watched something daft on television, likely a mystery drama, and played something even dafter, such as Sheffield’s take on Monopoly.
The hour was already advanced, and snow was falling, and I remember feeling deflated – did we lose the holiday?
The Aftermath and the Story
Although our friend eventually recovered, he had in fact suffered a punctured lung and later developed DVT. 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”.
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”.
