I Drove a Family Friend to A&E – and he went from peaky to scarcely conscious during the journey.
Our family friend has always been a truly outsized personality. Sharp and not prone to sentiment – and hardly ever declining to another brandy. At family parties, he would be the one chatting about the most recent controversy to catch up with a regional politician, or amusing us with accounts of the outrageous philandering of different footballers from Sheffield Wednesday during the last four decades.
It was common for us to pass the morning of Christmas Day with him and his family, prior to heading off to our own plans. Yet, on a particular Christmas, some ten years back, when he was supposed to be meeting family abroad, he tumbled down the staircase, whisky in one hand, his luggage in the other, and fractured his ribs. He was treated at the hospital and told him not to fly. Consequently, he ended up back with us, trying to cope, but seeming progressively worse.
The Day Progressed
The hours went by, however, the anecdotes weren’t flowing like they normally did. He maintained that he felt alright but his appearance suggested otherwise. He attempted to go upstairs for a nap but found he could not; he tried, cautiously, to eat Christmas lunch, and did not manage.
Therefore, before I could even don any celebratory headwear, we resolved to take him to A&E.
The idea of calling for an ambulance crossed our minds, but what would the wait time be on Christmas Day?
A Deteriorating Condition
By the time we got there, he had moved from being unwell to almost unconscious. People in the waiting room aided us guide him to a ward, where the distinctive odor of clinical cuisine and atmosphere filled the air.
The atmosphere, however, was unique. People were making brave attempts at holiday cheer in every direction, even with the pervasive clinical and somber atmosphere; decorations dangled from IV poles and portions of holiday pudding went cold on nightstands.
Positive medical attendants, who undoubtedly would have preferred to be at home, were moving busily and using that charming colloquial address so unique to the area: “duck”.
A Quiet Journey Back
When visiting hours were over, we headed home to chilled holiday sides and festive TV programming. We saw a lighthearted program on television, perhaps a detective story, and played something even dafter, such as a local version of the board game.
It was already late, and snow was falling, and I remember feeling deflated – did we lose the holiday?
Healing and Reflection
Although our friend eventually recovered, he had actually punctured a lung and went on to get DVT. And, while that Christmas does not rank among my favorites, it has become part of family legend as “the Christmas I saved a life”.
If that is completely accurate, or contains some artistic license, is not for me to definitively say, but the story’s yearly repetition has done no damage to my pride. And, as our friend always says: “don’t let the truth get in the way of a good story”.
