I Took a Close Friend of the Family to A&E – and his condition shifted from unwell to barely responsive on the way.
This individual has long been known as a bigger-than-life personality. Witty, unsentimental – and not one to say no to an extra drink. Whenever our families celebrated, he would be the one gossiping about the most recent controversy to catch up with a regional politician, or entertaining us with stories of the notorious womanizing of assorted players from the local club over the past 40 years.
Frequently, we would share Christmas morning with him and his family, before going our separate ways. But, one Christmas, some ten years back, when he was supposed to be meeting family abroad, he fell down the stairs, whisky in one hand, suitcase in the other, and fractured his ribs. He was treated at the hospital and told him not to fly. So, here he was back with us, making the best of it, but seeming progressively worse.
As Time Passed
The hours went by, however, the humorous tales were absent in their typical fashion. He was convinced he was OK but his appearance suggested otherwise. He attempted to go upstairs for a nap but found he could not; he tried, carefully, to eat Christmas lunch, and did not manage.
So, before I’d so much as placed a party hat on my head, we resolved to take him to A&E.
We considered summoning an ambulance, but what would the wait time be on Christmas Day?
A Worrying Turn
Upon our arrival, his state had progressed from poorly to hardly aware. Other outpatients helped us guide him to a ward, where the generic smell of hospital food and wind permeated the space.
What was distinct, however, was the mood. People were making brave attempts at festive gaiety everywhere you looked, notwithstanding the fundamental depressing and institutional feel; decorations dangled from IV poles and bowls of Christmas pudding congealed on tables next to the beds.
Positive medical attendants, who undoubtedly would have preferred to be at home, were moving busily and using that lovely local expression so particular to the area: “duck”.
A Subdued Return Home
Once the permitted time ended, we returned home to chilled holiday sides and holiday television. We saw a lighthearted program on television, probably Agatha Christie, and took part in a more foolish pastime, such as a regionally-themed property trading game.
The hour was already advanced, and snow was falling, and I remember having a sense of anticlimax – was Christmas effectively over for us?
Healing and Reflection
Even though he ultimately healed, he had truly experienced a lung puncture and went on to get a serious circulatory condition. And, even if that particular Christmas isn’t a personal favourite, it has gone down in family lore as “the Christmas I saved a life”.
If that is completely accurate, or a little bit of dramatic licence, I couldn’t possibly comment, but the story’s yearly repetition has done no damage to my pride. In keeping with our friend’s motto: “don’t let the truth get in the way of a good story”.
