I Took a Family Friend to the Emergency Room – and his condition shifted from unwell to barely responsive on the way.
This individual has long been known as a truly outsized character. Sharp and not prone to sentiment – and not one to say no to a further glass. During family gatherings, he would be the one discussing the newest uproar to involve a regional politician, or entertaining us with stories of the shameless infidelity of various Sheffield Wednesday players over the past 40 years.
Frequently, we would share the morning of Christmas Day with him and his family, prior to heading off to our own plans. But, one Christmas, about 10 years ago, when he was planning to join family abroad, he took a fall on the steps, with a glass of whisky in hand, a suitcase gripped in the other, and broke his ribs. Medical staff had treated him and instructed him to avoid flying. Consequently, he ended up back with us, making the best of it, but looking increasingly peaky.
The Morning Rolled On
Time passed, yet the humorous tales were absent like they normally did. He was convinced he was OK but his appearance suggested otherwise. He attempted to go upstairs for a nap but found he could not; he tried, cautiously, to eat Christmas lunch, and was unsuccessful.
Thus, prior to me managing to don any celebratory headwear, my mother and I made the choice 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
When we finally reached the hospital, his state had progressed from unwell to almost unconscious. People in the waiting room aided us help him reach a treatment area, where the distinctive odor of institutional meals and air was noticeable.
The atmosphere, however, was unique. One could see valiant efforts at festive gaiety all around, even with the pervasive clinical and somber atmosphere; decorations dangled from IV poles and dishes of festive dessert sat uneaten on tables next to the beds.
Upbeat nursing staff, who no doubt would far rather have been at home, were working diligently and using that charming colloquial address so particular to the area: “duck”.
A Quiet Journey Back
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 Sheffield’s take on Monopoly.
It was already late, and snow was falling, and I remember experiencing a letdown – was Christmas effectively over for us?
The Aftermath and the Story
Although our friend eventually recovered, he had actually punctured a lung and later developed a serious circulatory condition. And, although that holiday isn’t a personal favourite, it has become part of family legend 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 its annual retelling has definitely been good for my self-esteem. True to his favorite phrase: “don’t let the truth get in the way of a good story”.
