I Drove a Family Friend to the Emergency Room – and his condition shifted from peaky to barely responsive during the journey.
This individual has long been known as a larger than life figure. Witty, unsentimental – and hardly ever declining to an extra drink. At family parties, he is the person discussing the most recent controversy to catch up with a regional politician, or amusing us with accounts of the shameless infidelity of various Sheffield Wednesday players over the past 40 years.
It was common for us to pass Christmas morning with him and his family, then departing for our own celebrations. Yet, on a particular Christmas, roughly a decade past, when he was scheduled to meet family abroad, he fell down the stairs, whisky in one hand, suitcase in the other, and sustained broken ribs. Medical staff had treated him and advised against air travel. Consequently, he ended up back with us, making the best of it, but looking increasingly peaky.
The Day Progressed
The morning rolled on but the anecdotes weren’t flowing like they normally did. He maintained that he felt alright but his appearance suggested otherwise. He tried to make it upstairs for a nap but couldn’t; he tried, carefully, to eat Christmas lunch, and did not manage.
So, before I’d so much as put on a festive hat, we resolved to drive him to the emergency room.
The idea of calling for an ambulance crossed our minds, but how long would that take on Christmas Day?
A Rapid Decline
By the time we got there, he’d gone from unwell to almost unconscious. People in the waiting room aided us guide him to a ward, where the distinctive odor of clinical cuisine and atmosphere permeated the space.
The atmosphere, however, was unique. One could see valiant efforts at Christmas spirit everywhere you looked, notwithstanding the fundamental depressing and institutional feel; decorations dangled from IV poles and dishes of festive dessert sat uneaten on tables next to the beds.
Upbeat nursing staff, who undoubtedly would have preferred to be at home, were bustling about and using that lovely local expression so unique to the area: “duck”.
Heading Home for Leftovers
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 Sheffield’s take on Monopoly.
By then it was quite late, and snowing, and I remember feeling deflated – was Christmas effectively over for us?
Healing and Reflection
Even though he ultimately healed, he had truly experienced a lung puncture and went on to get a serious circulatory condition. And, although that holiday is not my most cherished memory, 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 am not in a position to judge, 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”.
