I Drove a Close Friend of the Family to the Emergency Room – and his condition shifted from peaky to barely responsive during the journey.
Our family friend has always been a larger than life personality. Witty, unsentimental – and never one to refuse to an extra drink. During family gatherings, he’s the one chatting about the latest scandal to involve a local MP, or entertaining us with stories of the shameless infidelity 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. However, one holiday season, roughly a decade past, when he was scheduled to meet family abroad, he took a fall on the steps, whisky in one hand, suitcase in the other, and sustained broken ribs. He was treated at the hospital and instructed him to avoid flying. Consequently, he ended up back with us, doing his best to manage, but appearing more and more unwell.
The Day Progressed
Time passed, yet the anecdotes weren’t flowing like they normally did. He insisted he was fine but he didn’t look it. He attempted to go upstairs for a nap but couldn’t; he tried, gingerly, to eat Christmas lunch, and did not manage.
Thus, prior to me managing to don any celebratory headwear, my mother and I made the choice to drive him to the emergency room.
We considered summoning an ambulance, but what would the wait time be on Christmas Day?
A Worrying Turn
Upon our arrival, he had moved from being unwell to almost unconscious. Other outpatients helped us help him reach a treatment area, where the characteristic scent of clinical cuisine and atmosphere permeated the space.
Different though, was the spirit. People were making brave attempts at festive gaiety 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.
Upbeat nursing staff, who undoubtedly would have preferred to be at home, were working diligently and using that charming colloquial address so unique to the area: “duck”.
A Quiet Journey Back
When visiting hours were over, we made our way home to lukewarm condiments and holiday television. We watched something daft on television, likely a mystery drama, and engaged in an even sillier game, such as a local version of the board game.
It was already late, 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 actually punctured a lung and went on to get a serious circulatory condition. And, even if that particular Christmas 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 involves a degree of exaggeration, I couldn’t possibly comment, but its annual retelling has definitely been good for my self-esteem. And, as our friend always says: “don’t let the truth get in the way of a good story”.
