I Took a Family Friend to A&E – and his condition shifted from peaky to barely responsive during the journey.
This individual has long been known as a bigger-than-life character. Clever and unemotional – and not one to say no to an extra drink. At family parties, he is the person gossiping about the latest scandal to involve a local MP, or amusing us with accounts of the outrageous philandering of assorted players from the local club over the past 40 years.
We would often spend the morning of Christmas Day with him and his family, then departing for our own celebrations. Yet, on a particular Christmas, about 10 years ago, when he was planning to join family abroad, he fell down the stairs, with a glass of whisky in hand, a suitcase gripped in the other, and broke his ribs. He was treated at the hospital and instructed him to avoid flying. Thus, he found himself back with us, trying to cope, but seeming progressively worse.
The Morning Rolled On
The hours went by, however, the stories were not coming as they usually were. He was convinced he was OK but his condition seemed to contradict this. He attempted to go upstairs for a nap but couldn’t; he tried, cautiously, to eat Christmas lunch, and failed.
Thus, prior to me managing to placed a party hat on my head, 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 Rapid Decline
Upon our arrival, he’d gone from poorly to hardly aware. Fellow patients assisted us help him reach a treatment area, where the generic smell of institutional meals and air permeated the space.
Different though, was the spirit. There were heroic attempts at holiday cheer in every direction, notwithstanding the fundamental depressing and institutional feel; festive strands were attached to medical equipment and portions of holiday pudding went cold on tables next to the beds.
Positive medical attendants, who undoubtedly would have preferred to be at home, were working diligently and using that lovely local expression so unique to the area: “duck”.
A Quiet Journey Back
When visiting hours were over, we returned home to chilled holiday sides and festive TV programming. We viewed something silly on television, likely a mystery drama, and engaged in an even sillier game, such as Sheffield’s take on Monopoly.
It was already late, and snowing, and I remember experiencing a letdown – was Christmas effectively over for us?
Healing and Reflection
Even though he ultimately healed, he had actually punctured a lung and went on to get a serious circulatory condition. And, while that Christmas isn’t a personal favourite, it has entered into our family history 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 the story’s yearly repetition certainly hasn’t hurt my ego. True to his favorite phrase: “don’t let the truth get in the way of a good story”.
