I Took a Family Friend to A&E – and he went from peaky to scarcely conscious during the journey.
This individual has long been known as a larger than life personality. Witty, unsentimental – and not one to say no to another brandy. Whenever our families celebrated, he’s the one chatting about the newest uproar to catch up with a member of parliament, or amusing us with accounts of the shameless infidelity of assorted players from the local club over the past 40 years.
We would often spend the holiday morning with him and his family, before going our separate ways. Yet, on a particular Christmas, about 10 years ago, when he was scheduled to meet family abroad, he took a fall on the steps, with a glass of whisky in hand, a suitcase gripped in the other, and broke his ribs. Medical staff had treated him and told him not to fly. So, here he was back with us, making the best of it, but seeming progressively worse.
The Morning Rolled On
The morning rolled on but the humorous tales were absent in their typical fashion. He was convinced he was OK but his appearance suggested otherwise. He endeavored to climb the stairs for a nap but couldn’t; he tried, carefully, to eat Christmas lunch, and was unsuccessful.
Therefore, before I could even placed a party hat on my head, my mother and I made the choice 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 Deteriorating Condition
By the time we got there, his state had progressed from peaky to barely responsive. Other outpatients helped us get him to a ward, where the characteristic scent of clinical cuisine and atmosphere filled the air.
What was distinct, however, was the mood. There were heroic attempts at holiday cheer in every direction, even with the pervasive depressing and institutional feel; tinsel hung from drip stands and bowls of Christmas pudding congealed on nightstands.
Upbeat nursing staff, who undoubtedly would have preferred to be at home, were working diligently and using that great term of endearment so unique to the area: “duck”.
Heading Home for Leftovers
When visiting hours were over, we returned home to chilled holiday sides and festive TV programming. We watched something daft on television, probably Agatha Christie, and took part in a more foolish pastime, such as a local version of the board game.
By then it was quite late, and snow was falling, and I remember having a sense of anticlimax – did we lose the holiday?
Recovery and Retrospection
While our friend did get better in time, he had actually punctured a lung and went on to get DVT. And, even if that particular Christmas isn’t a personal favourite, 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, is not for me to definitively say, but the story’s yearly repetition 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”.
