I Took a Close Friend of the Family to the Emergency Room – and his condition shifted from unwell to barely responsive on the way.
He has always been a man of a larger than life personality. Witty, unsentimental – and not one to say no to a further glass. At family parties, he would be the one discussing the latest scandal to catch up with a regional politician, or regaling us with tales of the notorious womanizing of different footballers from Sheffield Wednesday during the last four decades.
We would often spend the holiday morning with him and his family, then departing for our own celebrations. But, one Christmas, about 10 years ago, when he was planning to join family abroad, he fell down the stairs, holding a drink in one hand, suitcase in the other, and fractured his ribs. Medical staff had treated him and instructed him to avoid flying. So, here he was back with us, trying to cope, but seeming progressively worse.
The Day Progressed
The morning rolled on but the humorous tales were absent in their typical fashion. He maintained that he felt alright but his appearance suggested otherwise. He attempted to go upstairs for a nap but couldn’t; he tried, carefully, to eat Christmas lunch, and failed.
Therefore, before I could even put on a festive hat, my mother and I made the choice to drive him to the emergency room.
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, his state had progressed from poorly to hardly aware. Fellow patients assisted us guide him to a ward, where the distinctive odor of institutional meals and air permeated the space.
What was distinct, however, was the mood. One could see valiant efforts at Christmas spirit all around, even with the pervasive depressing and institutional feel; tinsel hung from drip stands and dishes of festive dessert sat uneaten on bedside tables.
Upbeat nursing staff, who no doubt would far rather have been at home, were working diligently and using that lovely local expression so unique to the area: “duck”.
A Subdued Return Home
After our time at the hospital concluded, we returned home to lukewarm condiments and festive TV programming. We saw a lighthearted program on television, probably Agatha Christie, and took part in a more foolish pastime, such as a local version of the board game.
The hour was already advanced, and snow was falling, and I remember experiencing a letdown – had we missed Christmas?
Recovery and Retrospection
Even though he ultimately healed, he had in fact suffered a punctured lung and later developed deep vein thrombosis. And, while that Christmas isn’t a personal favourite, it has gone down in family lore as “the Christmas I saved a life”.
Whether that’s strictly true, or a little bit of dramatic licence, I am not in a position to judge, but the story’s yearly repetition certainly hasn’t hurt my ego. And, as our friend always says: “don’t let the truth get in the way of a good story”.
