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I Took a Close Friend of the Family to A&E – and his condition shifted from unwell to barely responsive during the journey.
He has always been a man of a bigger-than-life figure. Witty, unsentimental – and hardly ever declining to a further glass. During family gatherings, he’s the one discussing the most recent controversy to involve a local MP, or regaling us with tales of the shameless infidelity of assorted players from the local club for forty years.
Frequently, we would share the morning of Christmas Day with him and his family, before going our separate ways. Yet, on a particular Christmas, some ten years back, when he was planning to join family abroad, he fell down the stairs, with a glass of whisky in hand, suitcase in the other, and fractured his ribs. Medical staff had treated him and told him not to fly. So, here he was back with us, trying to cope, but seeming progressively worse.
The Morning Rolled On
Time passed, yet the humorous tales were absent as they usually were. 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, gingerly, to eat Christmas lunch, and was unsuccessful.
Thus, prior to me managing to placed a party hat on my head, we resolved to get him to the hospital.
We considered summoning an ambulance, but how long would that take on Christmas Day?
A Deteriorating Condition
Upon our arrival, he’d gone from 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.
Different though, was the spirit. There were heroic attempts at holiday cheer everywhere you looked, despite the underlying depressing and institutional feel; decorations dangled from IV poles and bowls of Christmas pudding congealed on bedside tables.
Positive medical attendants, who certainly would have chosen to be at home, were working diligently and using that great term of endearment so particular to the area: “duck”.
A Subdued Return Home
After our time at the hospital concluded, we headed home to lukewarm condiments and Christmas telly. We viewed something silly on television, likely a mystery drama, and played something even dafter, such as a local version of the board game.
It was already late, and snow was falling, and I remember feeling deflated – did we lose the holiday?
Healing and Reflection
Although our friend eventually recovered, he had actually punctured a lung and later developed a serious circulatory condition. And, although that holiday is not my most cherished memory, it has become part of family legend as “the Christmas I saved a life”.
If that is completely accurate, or contains some artistic license, I couldn’t possibly comment, but the story’s yearly repetition has definitely been good for my self-esteem. And, as our friend always says: “don’t let the truth get in the way of a good story”.
Margaret Crane
A tech enthusiast and writer passionate about exploring the latest innovations and sharing practical lifestyle advice.
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