I Drove a Close Friend of the Family to the Emergency Room – and he went from unwell to barely responsive during the journey.
This individual has long been known as a bigger-than-life figure. Witty, unsentimental – and not one to say no to another brandy. At family parties, he is the person discussing the most recent controversy to involve a regional politician, or regaling us with tales of the notorious womanizing of assorted players from the local club for forty years.
It was common for us to pass the holiday morning with him and his family, then departing for our own celebrations. Yet, on a particular Christmas, roughly a decade past, when he was scheduled to meet family abroad, he fell down the stairs, with a glass of whisky in hand, his luggage in the other, and sustained broken ribs. Medical staff had treated him and advised against air travel. So, here he was back with us, trying to cope, but appearing more and more unwell.
As Time Passed
The hours went by, however, the anecdotes weren’t flowing like they normally did. He insisted he was fine but he didn’t look it. He endeavored to climb the stairs for a nap but found he could not; he tried, carefully, to eat Christmas lunch, and was unsuccessful.
Thus, prior to me managing to don any celebratory headwear, my mum and I decided to take him to A&E.
The idea of calling for an ambulance crossed our minds, but how much of a delay would there be on Christmas Day?
A Worrying Turn
When we finally reached the hospital, his state had progressed from peaky to barely responsive. Other outpatients helped us guide him to a ward, where the generic smell of institutional meals and air filled the air.
Different though, was the spirit. People were making brave attempts at holiday cheer everywhere you looked, despite the underlying sterile and miserable mood; decorations dangled from IV poles and bowls of Christmas pudding congealed on bedside tables.
Positive medical attendants, who certainly would have chosen to be at home, were bustling about and using that lovely local expression so particular to the area: “duck”.
A Quiet Journey Back
Once the permitted time ended, we made our way home to lukewarm condiments and festive TV programming. We viewed something silly on television, likely a mystery drama, and took part in a more foolish pastime, such as a regionally-themed property trading game.
By then it was quite late, and snow was falling, and I remember experiencing a letdown – did we lose the holiday?
Healing and Reflection
Even though he ultimately healed, he had truly experienced a lung puncture and later developed DVT. And, even if that particular Christmas is not my most cherished memory, 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, I couldn’t possibly comment, but its annual retelling has done no damage to my pride. And, as our friend always says: “don’t let the truth get in the way of a good story”.
