I Drove a Close Friend of the Family to the Emergency Room – and his condition shifted from peaky to barely responsive during the journey.
This individual has long been known as a bigger-than-life figure. Sharp and not prone to sentiment – and hardly ever declining to another brandy. During family gatherings, he’s the one chatting about the latest scandal to involve a local MP, or amusing us with accounts of the shameless infidelity of assorted players from the local club 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 planning to join family abroad, he fell down the stairs, holding a drink in one hand, a suitcase gripped in the other, and broke his ribs. The hospital had patched him up and advised against air travel. Thus, he found himself back with us, doing his best to manage, but seeming progressively worse.
The Morning Rolled On
The morning rolled on but the humorous tales were absent in their typical fashion. He maintained that he felt alright but he didn’t look it. He tried to make it upstairs for a nap but found he could not; he tried, gingerly, to eat Christmas lunch, and failed.
So, before I’d so much as don any celebratory headwear, my mother and I made the choice to get him to the hospital.
We thought about calling an ambulance, but how much of a delay would there be on Christmas Day?
A Rapid Decline
When we finally reached the hospital, he’d gone from unwell to almost unconscious. Fellow patients assisted us guide him to a ward, where the generic smell of clinical cuisine and atmosphere was noticeable.
The atmosphere, however, was unique. People were making brave attempts at holiday cheer all around, despite the underlying clinical and somber atmosphere; festive strands were attached to medical equipment and bowls of Christmas pudding congealed on bedside tables.
Positive medical attendants, who certainly would have chosen to be at home, were bustling about 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 chilled holiday sides and Christmas telly. We saw a lighthearted program on television, probably Agatha Christie, 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 – had we missed Christmas?
The Aftermath and the Story
Although our friend eventually recovered, he had actually punctured a lung and later developed a serious circulatory condition. And, although that holiday does not rank among my favorites, 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 its annual retelling has done no damage to my pride. True to his favorite phrase: “don’t let the truth get in the way of a good story”.
