I Took a Family Friend to the Emergency Room – and his condition shifted from unwell to barely responsive on the way.
This individual has long been known as a bigger-than-life personality. Witty, unsentimental – and hardly ever declining to another brandy. At family parties, he would be the one discussing the newest uproar to catch up with a regional politician, or amusing us with accounts of the notorious womanizing of assorted players from the local club over the past 40 years.
We would often spend the morning of Christmas Day with him and his family, then departing for our own celebrations. But, one Christmas, roughly a decade past, when he was supposed to be meeting family abroad, he fell down the stairs, with a glass of whisky in hand, suitcase in the other, and broke his ribs. The hospital had patched him up and instructed him to avoid flying. So, here he was back with us, trying to cope, but looking increasingly peaky.
The Day Progressed
Time passed, yet the stories were not coming in their typical fashion. He was convinced he was OK but his appearance suggested otherwise. He tried to make it upstairs for a nap but couldn’t; he tried, gingerly, to eat Christmas lunch, and was unsuccessful.
Therefore, before I could even put on a festive hat, my mother and I made the choice to take him to A&E.
The idea of calling for an ambulance crossed our minds, but how much of a delay would there be on Christmas Day?
A Worrying Turn
Upon our arrival, he’d gone from poorly to hardly aware. Other outpatients helped us guide him to a ward, where the distinctive odor of hospital food and wind permeated the space.
Different though, was the spirit. One could see valiant efforts at Christmas spirit in every direction, despite the underlying clinical and somber atmosphere; festive strands were attached to medical equipment and bowls of Christmas pudding congealed on nightstands.
Cheerful nurses, who undoubtedly would have preferred to be at home, were bustling about and using that lovely local expression so particular to the area: “duck”.
A Subdued Return Home
After our time at the hospital concluded, we headed home to lukewarm condiments and Christmas telly. We watched something daft on television, probably Agatha Christie, and played something even dafter, such as a local version of the board game.
By then it was quite late, and snow was falling, and I remember having a sense of anticlimax – had we missed Christmas?
The Aftermath and the Story
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 entered into our family history 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 the story’s yearly repetition has definitely been good for my self-esteem. In keeping with our friend’s motto: “don’t let the truth get in the way of a good story”.
