I Drove a Family Friend to A&E – and his condition shifted from unwell to barely responsive on the way.
This individual has long been known as a bigger-than-life figure. Sharp and not prone to sentiment – and never one to refuse to another brandy. During family gatherings, he would be the one chatting about the latest scandal to involve a regional politician, or amusing us with accounts of the shameless infidelity of different footballers from Sheffield Wednesday for forty years.
We would often spend the holiday morning with him and his family, before going our separate ways. However, one holiday season, roughly a decade past, when he was planning to join family abroad, he took a fall on the steps, with a glass of whisky in hand, suitcase in the other, and sustained broken ribs. Medical staff had treated him and told him not to fly. Thus, he found himself back with us, trying to cope, but appearing more and more unwell.
The Day Progressed
The hours went by, however, the anecdotes weren’t flowing as they usually were. 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, carefully, to eat Christmas lunch, and did not manage.
Thus, prior to me managing to don any celebratory headwear, my mum and I decided to take him to A&E.
We thought about calling an ambulance, but what would the wait time be on Christmas Day?
A Deteriorating Condition
Upon our arrival, his state had progressed from poorly to hardly aware. People in the waiting room aided us get him to a ward, where the generic smell of hospital food and wind filled the air.
The atmosphere, however, was unique. There were heroic attempts at Christmas spirit in every direction, notwithstanding the fundamental clinical and somber atmosphere; festive strands were attached to medical equipment and dishes of festive dessert sat uneaten on bedside tables.
Positive medical attendants, who no doubt would far rather have been at home, were bustling about and using that lovely local expression so unique to the area: “duck”.
A Quiet Journey Back
Once the permitted time ended, we returned home to lukewarm condiments and holiday television. We watched something daft on television, perhaps a detective story, and engaged in an even sillier game, such as Sheffield’s take on Monopoly.
The hour was already advanced, and snowing, and I remember experiencing a letdown – did we lose the holiday?
The Aftermath and the Story
Although our friend eventually recovered, he had actually punctured a lung and later developed DVT. And, even if that particular Christmas isn’t a personal favourite, it has entered into our family history as “the Christmas I saved a life”.
If that is completely accurate, or a little bit of dramatic licence, I couldn’t possibly comment, but its annual retelling 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”.
