I Took a Close Friend of the Family to A&E – and he went from unwell to barely responsive on the way.

He has always been a man of a larger than life character. Sharp and not prone to sentiment – and not one to say no to another brandy. Whenever our families celebrated, he would be the one chatting about the latest scandal to catch up with a regional politician, or amusing us with accounts of the notorious womanizing of different footballers from Sheffield Wednesday over the past 40 years.

It was common for us to pass the holiday morning with him and his family, before going our separate ways. However, one holiday season, about 10 years ago, when he was scheduled to meet family abroad, he fell down the stairs, holding a drink in one hand, suitcase in the other, and broke his ribs. He was treated at the hospital and advised against air travel. Consequently, he ended up back with us, trying to cope, but looking increasingly peaky.

The Day Progressed

The morning rolled on but the humorous tales were absent as they usually were. He was convinced he was OK but he didn’t look it. He tried to make it upstairs for a nap but couldn’t; he tried, cautiously, to eat Christmas lunch, and was unsuccessful.

Thus, prior to me managing to placed a party hat on my head, 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 Worrying Turn

By the time we got there, his state had progressed from poorly to hardly aware. Fellow patients assisted us guide him to a ward, where the characteristic scent of hospital food and wind filled the air.

Different though, was the spirit. There were heroic attempts at festive gaiety everywhere you looked, despite the underlying sterile and miserable mood; festive strands were attached to medical equipment and bowls of Christmas pudding congealed on tables next to the beds.

Cheerful nurses, who certainly would have chosen to be at home, were moving busily and using that charming colloquial address so unique to the area: “duck”.

Heading Home for Leftovers

When visiting hours were over, we returned home to cold bread sauce and holiday television. We viewed something silly on television, likely a mystery drama, and took part in a more foolish pastime, such as a local version of the board game.

By then it was quite late, and it had begun to snow, and I remember having a sense of anticlimax – had we missed Christmas?

Healing and Reflection

Although our friend eventually recovered, he had actually punctured a lung and went on to get a serious circulatory condition. And, while that Christmas is not my most cherished memory, it has become part of family legend as “the Christmas I saved a life”.

Whether that’s strictly true, or contains some artistic license, is not for me to definitively say, but the story’s yearly repetition certainly hasn’t hurt my ego. And, as our friend always says: “don’t let the truth get in the way of a good story”.