I Drove a Family Friend to A&E – and his condition shifted from unwell to scarcely conscious on the way.
Our family friend has always been a truly outsized character. Witty, unsentimental – and hardly ever declining to a further glass. During family gatherings, he is the person gossiping about the latest scandal to involve a local MP, or amusing us with accounts of the outrageous philandering of assorted players from the local club during the last four decades.
Frequently, we would share Christmas morning with him and his family, prior to heading off to our own plans. However, one holiday season, some ten years back, when he was planning to join family abroad, he took a fall on the steps, holding a drink in one hand, suitcase in the other, and sustained broken ribs. The hospital had patched him up and told him not to fly. 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 was convinced he was OK but his condition seemed to contradict this. He endeavored to climb the stairs for a nap but found he could not; he tried, cautiously, to eat Christmas lunch, and was unsuccessful.
Thus, prior to me managing to don any celebratory headwear, 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
By the time we got there, his state had progressed from poorly to hardly aware. Fellow patients assisted us help him reach a treatment area, where the distinctive odor of clinical cuisine and atmosphere filled the air.
Different though, was the spirit. There were heroic attempts at holiday cheer everywhere you looked, notwithstanding the fundamental depressing and institutional feel; tinsel hung from drip stands and dishes of festive dessert sat uneaten on nightstands.
Positive medical attendants, who undoubtedly would have preferred to be at home, were working diligently and using that lovely local expression so unique to the area: “duck”.
A Subdued Return Home
Once the permitted time ended, we made our way home to cold bread sauce and Christmas telly. 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 it had begun to snow, and I remember experiencing a letdown – did we lose the holiday?
Healing and Reflection
Even though he ultimately healed, he had in fact suffered a punctured lung and subsequently contracted DVT. And, while that Christmas is not my most cherished memory, it has entered into our family history as “the Christmas I saved a life”.
Whether that’s strictly true, or involves a degree of exaggeration, 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”.
