I Took a Family Friend to A&E – and he went from unwell to scarcely conscious during the journey.
He has always been a man of a larger than life character. Witty, unsentimental – and never one to refuse to a further glass. At family parties, he’s the one chatting about the newest uproar to befall a local MP, or entertaining us with stories of the outrageous philandering of different footballers from Sheffield Wednesday for forty years.
It was common for us to pass Christmas morning with him and his family, prior to heading off to our own plans. Yet, on a particular Christmas, some ten years back, when he was scheduled to meet family abroad, he fell down the stairs, with a glass of whisky in hand, a suitcase gripped in the other, and broke his ribs. The hospital had patched him up and instructed him to avoid flying. Consequently, he ended up back with us, trying to cope, but appearing more and more unwell.
The Morning Rolled On
The morning rolled on but the humorous tales were absent as they usually were. He insisted he was fine but his appearance suggested otherwise. He tried to make it upstairs for a nap but was unable to; he tried, carefully, to eat Christmas lunch, and was unsuccessful.
So, before I’d so much as put on a festive hat, my mother and I made the choice to take him to A&E.
We considered summoning an ambulance, but what would the wait time be on Christmas Day?
A Deteriorating Condition
Upon our arrival, his state had progressed from poorly to hardly aware. People in the waiting room aided us guide him to a ward, where the distinctive odor of institutional meals and air filled the air.
The atmosphere, however, was unique. One could see valiant efforts at Christmas spirit everywhere you looked, notwithstanding the fundamental clinical and somber atmosphere; decorations dangled from IV poles 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 unique to the area: “duck”.
Heading Home for Leftovers
When visiting hours were over, we headed home to chilled holiday sides and Christmas telly. We saw a lighthearted program on television, perhaps a detective story, and took part in a more foolish pastime, such as a regionally-themed property trading game.
It was already late, and snow was falling, and I remember feeling deflated – had we missed Christmas?
Healing and Reflection
Although our friend eventually recovered, he had truly experienced a lung puncture and later developed 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”.
If that is completely accurate, or contains some artistic license, is not for me to definitively say, but hearing it told each year has done no damage to my pride. And, as our friend always says: “don’t let the truth get in the way of a good story”.
