I Drove a Close Friend of the Family to A&E – and he went from unwell to scarcely conscious on the way.
This individual has long been known as a bigger-than-life personality. Clever and unemotional – and hardly ever declining to a further glass. During family gatherings, he’s the one gossiping about the newest uproar to befall a regional politician, or regaling us with tales of the notorious womanizing of assorted players from the local club during the last four decades.
It was common for us to pass the holiday morning with him and his family, before going our separate ways. Yet, on a particular Christmas, some ten years back, when he was planning to join family abroad, he fell down the stairs, whisky in one hand, a suitcase gripped in the other, and fractured his ribs. He was treated at the hospital and told him not to fly. Consequently, he ended up back with us, making the best of it, but appearing more and more unwell.
As Time Passed
The hours went by, however, the stories were not coming like they normally did. He was convinced he was OK but his appearance suggested otherwise. He tried to make it upstairs for a nap but was unable to; he tried, gingerly, to eat Christmas lunch, and failed.
Therefore, before I could even placed a party hat on my head, my mum and I decided to take him to A&E.
We considered summoning an ambulance, but what would the wait time be on Christmas Day?
A Deteriorating Condition
When we finally reached the hospital, he’d gone from peaky to barely responsive. Fellow patients assisted us guide him to a ward, where the generic smell of clinical cuisine and atmosphere permeated the space.
The atmosphere, however, was unique. People were making brave attempts at festive gaiety all around, despite the underlying sterile and miserable mood; decorations dangled from IV poles and dishes of festive dessert sat uneaten on nightstands.
Cheerful nurses, who certainly would have chosen to be at home, were moving busily and using that lovely local expression so particular to the area: “duck”.
Heading Home for Leftovers
Once the permitted time ended, we headed home to cold bread sauce and holiday television. We saw a lighthearted program on television, likely a mystery drama, and played something even dafter, such as a local version of the board game.
The hour was already advanced, and snowing, and I remember experiencing a letdown – did we lose the holiday?
Recovery and Retrospection
While our friend did get better in time, he had in fact suffered a punctured lung and subsequently contracted DVT. And, although that holiday does not rank among my favorites, it has gone down in family lore as “the Christmas I saved a life”.
Whether that’s strictly true, or involves a degree of exaggeration, I couldn’t possibly comment, but hearing it told each year certainly hasn’t hurt my ego. True to his favorite phrase: “don’t let the truth get in the way of a good story”.
