I Drove a Family Friend to A&E – and he went from unwell to barely responsive during the journey.
Our family friend has always been a bigger-than-life personality. Clever and unemotional – and never one to refuse to an extra drink. During family gatherings, he is the person discussing the newest uproar to befall a member of parliament, or amusing us with accounts of the shameless infidelity of different footballers from Sheffield Wednesday during the last four decades.
It was common for us to pass Christmas morning with him and his family, then departing for our own celebrations. Yet, on a particular Christmas, roughly a decade past, when he was planning to join family abroad, he tumbled down the staircase, 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. Thus, he found himself back with us, doing his best to manage, but appearing more and more unwell.
The Morning Rolled On
Time passed, yet the stories were not coming in their typical fashion. He maintained that he felt alright but his condition seemed to contradict this. He tried to make it upstairs for a nap but found he could not; 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.
We thought about calling an ambulance, but what would the wait time be on Christmas Day?
A Deteriorating Condition
Upon our arrival, he’d gone from peaky to barely responsive. Other outpatients helped us help him reach a treatment area, where the generic smell of hospital food and wind filled the air.
The atmosphere, however, was unique. People were making brave attempts at holiday cheer all around, notwithstanding the fundamental sterile and miserable mood; tinsel hung from drip stands and portions of holiday pudding went cold on tables next to the beds.
Upbeat nursing staff, who no doubt would far rather have been at home, were bustling about and using that great term of endearment so unique to the area: “duck”.
A Subdued Return Home
After our time at the hospital concluded, we made our way home to chilled holiday sides and holiday television. We watched something daft on television, perhaps a detective story, and engaged in an even sillier game, such as a regionally-themed property trading game.
The hour was already advanced, and it had begun to snow, and I remember experiencing a letdown – was Christmas effectively over for us?
Healing and Reflection
While our friend did get better in time, he had actually punctured a lung and went on to get deep vein thrombosis. And, even if that particular Christmas is not my most cherished memory, it has entered into our family history 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 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”.