I Took a Close Friend of the Family to A&E – and he went from peaky to barely responsive on the way.
He has always been a man of a truly outsized character. Witty, unsentimental – and hardly ever declining to a further glass. At family parties, he would be the one discussing the latest scandal to involve a member of parliament, or regaling us with tales of the outrageous philandering of various Sheffield Wednesday players for forty years.
We would often spend the morning of Christmas Day with him and his family, prior to heading off to our own plans. However, one holiday season, about 10 years ago, when he was scheduled to meet family abroad, he tumbled down the staircase, whisky in one hand, suitcase in the other, and broke his ribs. The hospital had patched him up and advised against air travel. So, here he was back with us, trying to cope, but looking increasingly peaky.
As Time Passed
The hours went by, however, the humorous tales were absent like they normally did. He maintained that he felt alright but his condition seemed to contradict this. He tried to make it upstairs for a nap but was unable to; he tried, cautiously, to eat Christmas lunch, and did not manage.
Therefore, before I could even placed a party hat on my head, my mum and I decided to take him to A&E.
We thought about calling an ambulance, but how much of a delay would there be on Christmas Day?
A Deteriorating Condition
By the time we got there, he’d gone from peaky to barely responsive. People in the waiting room aided us get him to a ward, where the characteristic scent of clinical cuisine and atmosphere permeated the space.
What was distinct, however, was the mood. People were making brave attempts at Christmas spirit in every direction, even with the pervasive clinical and somber atmosphere; decorations dangled from IV poles and bowls of Christmas pudding congealed on tables next to the beds.
Upbeat nursing staff, who no doubt would far rather have been at home, were moving busily and using that lovely local expression so peculiar to the area: “duck”.
Heading Home for Leftovers
After our time at the hospital concluded, we made our way home to chilled holiday sides and festive TV programming. We watched something daft on television, likely a mystery drama, and took part in a more foolish pastime, such as a regionally-themed property trading game.
By then it was quite late, and snow was falling, and I remember experiencing a letdown – did we lose the holiday?
The Aftermath and the Story
While our friend did get better in time, he had actually punctured a lung and subsequently contracted DVT. And, although that holiday is not my most cherished memory, it has gone down in family lore as “the Christmas I saved a life”.
How factual that statement is, or involves a degree of exaggeration, is not for me to definitively say, but the story’s yearly repetition has done no damage to my pride. In keeping with our friend’s motto: “don’t let the truth get in the way of a good story”.
