I Drove a Close Friend of the Family to the Emergency Room – and he went from unwell to barely responsive on the way.
Our family friend has always been a truly outsized figure. Witty, unsentimental – and not one to say no to a further glass. During family gatherings, he would be the one discussing the latest scandal to catch up with a regional politician, or regaling us with tales of the notorious womanizing of various Sheffield Wednesday players over the past 40 years.
Frequently, we would share the holiday morning with him and his family, then departing for our own celebrations. Yet, on a particular Christmas, some ten years back, when he was scheduled to meet family abroad, he took a fall on the steps, whisky in one hand, his luggage in the other, and fractured his ribs. The hospital had patched him up and advised against air travel. Thus, he found himself back with us, trying to cope, but seeming progressively worse.
The Morning Rolled On
The morning rolled on but the stories were not coming like they normally did. He insisted he was fine but his appearance suggested otherwise. He tried to make it upstairs for a nap but couldn’t; he tried, cautiously, to eat Christmas lunch, and failed.
Therefore, before I could even put on a festive hat, my mum and I decided to drive him to the emergency room.
The idea of calling for an ambulance crossed our minds, but what would the wait time be on Christmas Day?
A Rapid Decline
When we finally reached the hospital, he had moved from being unwell to almost unconscious. Other outpatients helped us get him to a ward, where the generic smell of institutional meals and air permeated the space.
The atmosphere, however, was unique. One could see valiant efforts at festive gaiety all around, despite the underlying clinical and somber atmosphere; tinsel hung from drip stands and portions of holiday pudding went cold on nightstands.
Upbeat nursing staff, who undoubtedly would have preferred to be at home, were moving busily and using that charming colloquial address so unique to the area: “duck”.
A Subdued Return Home
When visiting hours were over, we headed home to chilled holiday sides and holiday television. We viewed something silly on television, probably Agatha Christie, and took part in a more foolish pastime, such as Sheffield’s take on Monopoly.
By then it was quite late, and snowing, and I remember having a sense of anticlimax – did we lose the holiday?
The Aftermath and the Story
Although our friend eventually recovered, he had in fact suffered a punctured lung and subsequently contracted a serious circulatory condition. And, while that Christmas does not rank among my favorites, it has become part of family legend as “the Christmas I saved a life”.
If that is completely accurate, or involves a degree of exaggeration, I am not in a position to judge, but its annual retelling has done no damage to my pride. True to his favorite phrase: “don’t let the truth get in the way of a good story”.
