I Drove a Close Friend of the Family to A&E – and he went from unwell to barely responsive on the way.
This individual has long been known as a larger than life character. Witty, unsentimental – and never one to refuse to an extra drink. Whenever our families celebrated, he’s the one gossiping about the newest uproar to catch up with a local MP, or amusing us with accounts of the outrageous philandering of assorted players from the local club over the past 40 years.
We would often spend the morning of Christmas Day with him and his family, prior to heading off to our own plans. However, one holiday season, roughly a decade past, when he was scheduled to meet family abroad, he fell down the stairs, whisky in one hand, his luggage in the other, and broke his ribs. He was treated at the hospital and advised against air travel. Thus, he found himself back with us, making the best of it, but looking increasingly peaky.
The Day Progressed
Time passed, yet the anecdotes weren’t flowing like they normally did. He maintained that he felt alright but his appearance suggested otherwise. He attempted to go upstairs for a nap but couldn’t; he tried, gingerly, to eat Christmas lunch, and failed.
So, before I’d so much as 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 what would the wait time be on Christmas Day?
A Rapid Decline
When we finally reached the hospital, he had moved from being peaky to barely responsive. People in the waiting room aided us guide him to a ward, where the characteristic scent of clinical cuisine and atmosphere was noticeable.
The atmosphere, however, was unique. One could see valiant efforts at holiday cheer everywhere you looked, even with the pervasive depressing and institutional feel; tinsel hung from drip stands and portions of holiday pudding went cold on nightstands.
Upbeat nursing staff, who certainly would have chosen to be at home, were moving busily and using that charming colloquial address so unique to the area: “duck”.
A Quiet Journey Back
After our time at the hospital concluded, we returned home to cold bread sauce and festive TV programming. We viewed something silly on television, perhaps a detective story, and took part in a more foolish pastime, such as a local version of the board game.
It was already late, and snowing, and I remember experiencing a letdown – was Christmas effectively over for us?
The Aftermath and the Story
While our friend did get better in time, he had truly experienced a lung puncture and subsequently contracted DVT. And, while that Christmas is not my most cherished memory, it has gone down in family lore as “the Christmas I saved a life”.
Whether that’s strictly true, or a little bit of dramatic licence, I couldn’t possibly comment, but the story’s yearly repetition certainly hasn’t hurt my ego. True to his favorite phrase: “don’t let the truth get in the way of a good story”.
