I Drove a Family Friend to A&E – and he went from peaky 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 an extra drink. At family parties, he would be the one chatting about the newest uproar to befall a member of parliament, or entertaining us with stories of the notorious womanizing of various Sheffield Wednesday players during the last four decades.
Frequently, we would share the holiday morning with him and his family, before going our separate ways. But, one Christmas, roughly a decade past, when he was planning to join family abroad, he fell down the stairs, holding a drink in one hand, suitcase 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 looking increasingly peaky.
The Day Progressed
The hours went by, however, the stories were not coming like they normally did. He was convinced he was OK but his appearance suggested otherwise. He attempted to go upstairs for a nap but couldn’t; he tried, gingerly, to eat Christmas lunch, and was unsuccessful.
Thus, prior to me managing to placed a party hat on my head, my mother and I made the choice to drive him to the emergency room.
We thought about calling an ambulance, but what would the wait time be on Christmas Day?
A Deteriorating Condition
When we finally reached the hospital, his state had progressed from peaky to barely responsive. Fellow patients assisted us help him reach a treatment area, where the characteristic scent of institutional meals and air permeated the space.
Different though, was the spirit. One could see valiant efforts at festive gaiety all around, notwithstanding the fundamental sterile and miserable mood; decorations dangled from IV poles and dishes of festive dessert sat uneaten on nightstands.
Positive medical attendants, who certainly would have chosen to be at home, were moving busily and using that great term of endearment so particular to the area: “duck”.
A Subdued Return Home
Once the permitted time ended, we headed home to lukewarm condiments and holiday television. We viewed something silly on television, probably Agatha Christie, and engaged in an even sillier game, such as a local version of the board game.
By then it was quite late, and snow was falling, and I remember feeling deflated – had we missed Christmas?
Recovery and Retrospection
While our friend did get better in time, he had in fact suffered a punctured lung and later developed 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 a little bit of dramatic licence, I couldn’t possibly comment, but hearing it told each year certainly hasn’t hurt my ego. And, as our friend always says: “don’t let the truth get in the way of a good story”.
