I Took a Close Friend of the Family to A&E – and he went from peaky to barely responsive on the way.
This individual has long been known as a bigger-than-life personality. Sharp and not prone to sentiment – and never one to refuse to another brandy. At family parties, he would be the one discussing the most recent controversy to befall a local MP, or regaling us with tales of the notorious womanizing of various Sheffield Wednesday players over the past 40 years.
Frequently, we would share the holiday morning with him and his family, prior to heading off to our own plans. But, one Christmas, some ten years back, when he was scheduled to meet family abroad, he tumbled down the staircase, whisky in one hand, a suitcase gripped 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, doing his best to manage, but seeming progressively worse.
The Morning Rolled On
The morning rolled on but the humorous tales were absent like they normally did. He was convinced he was OK but he didn’t look it. He tried to make it upstairs for a nap but was unable to; he tried, carefully, to eat Christmas lunch, and failed.
Therefore, before I could even put on a festive hat, we resolved to take him to A&E.
We considered summoning an ambulance, but how much of a delay would there be on Christmas Day?
A Worrying Turn
Upon our arrival, he had moved from being poorly to hardly aware. People in the waiting room aided us get him to a ward, where the generic smell of institutional meals and air permeated the space.
The atmosphere, however, was unique. One could see valiant efforts at festive gaiety in every direction, despite the underlying clinical and somber atmosphere; tinsel hung from drip stands and dishes of festive dessert sat uneaten on tables next to the beds.
Positive medical attendants, who no doubt would far rather have been at home, were moving busily and using that charming colloquial address so particular to the area: “duck”.
A Quiet Journey Back
Once the permitted time ended, we made our way home to chilled holiday sides and festive TV programming. We viewed something silly on television, probably Agatha Christie, 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 experiencing a letdown – was Christmas effectively over for us?
Healing and Reflection
Even though he ultimately healed, he had truly experienced a lung puncture and later developed DVT. And, although that holiday does not rank among my favorites, it has become part of family legend as “the Christmas I saved a life”.
Whether that’s strictly true, or contains some artistic license, I couldn’t possibly comment, but the story’s yearly repetition certainly hasn’t hurt my ego. In keeping with our friend’s motto: “don’t let the truth get in the way of a good story”.
