I Took a Close Friend of the Family to the Emergency Room – and he went from peaky to scarcely conscious on the way.
Our family friend has always been a truly outsized personality. Clever and unemotional – and not one to say no to another brandy. During family gatherings, he is the person chatting about the most recent controversy to befall a local MP, or entertaining us with stories of the outrageous philandering of assorted players from the local club for forty years.
It was common for us to pass Christmas morning with him and his family, then departing for our own celebrations. However, one holiday season, roughly a decade past, when he was supposed to be meeting family abroad, he fell down the stairs, whisky in one hand, suitcase in the other, and sustained broken ribs. He was treated at the hospital and told him not to fly. Consequently, he ended up back with us, trying to cope, but looking increasingly peaky.
As Time Passed
The hours went by, however, the humorous tales were absent as they usually were. He maintained that he felt alright but he didn’t look it. He tried to make it upstairs for a nap but found he could not; he tried, cautiously, to eat Christmas lunch, and was unsuccessful.
So, before I’d so much as don any celebratory headwear, we resolved to take him to A&E.
We considered summoning an ambulance, but how much of a delay would there be on Christmas Day?
A Rapid Decline
Upon our arrival, he had moved from being unwell to almost unconscious. Other outpatients helped us help him reach a treatment area, where the distinctive odor of hospital food and wind permeated the space.
What was distinct, however, was the mood. People were making brave attempts at Christmas spirit in every direction, notwithstanding the fundamental sterile and miserable mood; festive strands were attached to medical equipment and dishes of festive dessert sat uneaten on nightstands.
Positive medical attendants, who no doubt would far rather have been at home, were working diligently and using that great term of endearment so unique to the area: “duck”.
A Quiet Journey Back
Once the permitted time ended, we headed home to chilled holiday sides and holiday television. We watched something daft on television, probably Agatha Christie, and played something even dafter, such as Sheffield’s take on Monopoly.
By then it was quite late, and snowing, and I remember having a sense of anticlimax – had we missed Christmas?
Recovery and Retrospection
While our friend did get better in time, he had actually punctured a lung and later developed deep vein thrombosis. And, although that holiday isn’t a personal favourite, it has entered into our family history as “the Christmas I saved a life”.
Whether that’s strictly true, 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. In keeping with our friend’s motto: “don’t let the truth get in the way of a good story”.
