I Drove a Close Friend of the Family to A&E – and he went from unwell to barely responsive during the journey.
Our family friend has always been a larger than life figure. Sharp and not prone to sentiment – and hardly ever declining to a further glass. Whenever our families celebrated, he would be the one chatting about the latest scandal to involve a member of parliament, or amusing us with accounts of the notorious womanizing of different footballers from Sheffield Wednesday over the past 40 years.
We would often spend Christmas morning 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 scheduled to meet family abroad, he fell down the stairs, with a glass of whisky in hand, his luggage in the other, and sustained broken ribs. The hospital had patched him up and told him not to fly. Thus, he found himself back with us, trying to cope, but looking increasingly peaky.
As Time Passed
Time passed, yet the stories were not coming in their typical fashion. He was convinced he was OK but his condition seemed to contradict this. He attempted to go upstairs for a nap but found he could not; he tried, gingerly, to eat Christmas lunch, and failed.
Therefore, before I could even 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 what would the wait time be on Christmas Day?
A Rapid Decline
By the time we got there, he had moved from being peaky to barely responsive. Fellow patients assisted us guide him to a ward, where the distinctive odor of clinical cuisine and atmosphere filled the air.
What was distinct, however, was the mood. One could see valiant efforts at holiday cheer everywhere you looked, despite the underlying sterile and miserable mood; festive strands were attached to medical equipment and dishes of festive dessert sat uneaten on nightstands.
Upbeat nursing staff, who certainly would have chosen to be at home, were moving busily and using that lovely local expression so particular to the area: “duck”.
A Quiet Journey Back
Once the permitted time ended, we returned home to chilled holiday sides and holiday television. We viewed something silly on television, perhaps a detective story, and took part in a more foolish pastime, such as a regionally-themed property trading game.
It was already late, and snow was falling, and I remember feeling deflated – did we lose the holiday?
Recovery and Retrospection
Although our friend eventually recovered, he had truly experienced a lung puncture and subsequently contracted deep vein thrombosis. And, although that holiday isn’t a personal favourite, it has become part of family legend as “the Christmas I saved a life”.
If that is completely accurate, or a little bit of dramatic licence, is not for me to definitively say, but its annual retelling has definitely been good for my self-esteem. And, as our friend always says: “don’t let the truth get in the way of a good story”.
