I Drove a Close Friend of the Family to A&E – and he went from peaky to barely responsive during the journey.
This individual has long been known as a larger than life personality. Clever and unemotional – and never one to refuse to another brandy. During family gatherings, he is the person gossiping about the latest scandal to befall a local MP, or amusing us with accounts of the shameless infidelity of assorted players from the local club over the past 40 years.
It was common for us to pass the holiday morning with him and his family, then departing for our own celebrations. However, one holiday season, some ten years back, when he was planning to join family abroad, he tumbled down the staircase, holding a drink in one hand, his luggage in the other, and broke his ribs. The hospital had patched him up and told him not to fly. Thus, he found himself back with us, doing his best to manage, but appearing more and more unwell.
The Morning Rolled On
The hours went by, however, the humorous tales were absent as they usually were. He was convinced he was OK but his appearance suggested otherwise. He endeavored to climb the stairs for a nap but was unable to; he tried, carefully, to eat Christmas lunch, and failed.
Therefore, before I could even don any celebratory headwear, my mum and I decided to drive him to the emergency room.
We considered summoning an ambulance, but what would the wait time be on Christmas Day?
A Rapid Decline
By the time we got there, he had moved from being unwell to almost unconscious. Other outpatients helped us get him to a ward, where the generic smell of hospital food and wind was noticeable.
What was distinct, however, was the mood. People were making brave attempts at festive gaiety everywhere you looked, even with the pervasive depressing and institutional feel; decorations dangled from IV poles and bowls of Christmas pudding congealed on tables next to the beds.
Cheerful nurses, who certainly would have chosen to be at home, were moving busily and using that lovely local expression so unique to the area: “duck”.
A Quiet Journey Back
When visiting hours were over, we made our way home to cold bread sauce and Christmas telly. We watched something daft 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 it had begun to snow, and I remember experiencing a letdown – did we lose the holiday?
Healing and Reflection
Although our friend eventually recovered, he had in fact suffered a punctured lung and went on to get deep vein thrombosis. And, even if that particular Christmas does not rank among my favorites, it has entered into our family history as “the Christmas I saved a life”.
How factual that statement is, or involves a degree of exaggeration, I couldn’t possibly comment, but hearing it told each year 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”.
