I Drove a Close Friend of the Family to A&E – and his condition shifted from peaky to scarcely conscious during the journey.
Our family friend has always been a larger than life personality. Witty, unsentimental – and not one to say no to an extra drink. Whenever our families celebrated, he would be the one discussing the newest uproar to befall a member of parliament, or regaling us with tales of the notorious womanizing of assorted players from the local club for forty years.
We would often spend the holiday morning with him and his family, prior to heading off to our own plans. But, one Christmas, some ten years back, when he was scheduled to meet 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 advised against air travel. Consequently, he ended up back with us, doing his best to manage, but looking increasingly peaky.
The Morning Rolled On
Time passed, yet the humorous tales were absent in their typical fashion. He was convinced he was OK but he didn’t look it. He endeavored to climb the stairs for a nap but was unable to; he tried, cautiously, to eat Christmas lunch, and failed.
Therefore, before I could even 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 how long would that take on Christmas Day?
A Deteriorating Condition
When we finally reached the hospital, he’d gone from poorly to hardly aware. People in the waiting room aided us get him to a ward, where the characteristic scent of hospital food and wind permeated the space.
What was distinct, however, was the mood. People were making brave attempts at Christmas spirit in every direction, notwithstanding the fundamental depressing and institutional feel; tinsel hung from drip stands and dishes of festive dessert sat uneaten on nightstands.
Cheerful nurses, 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 Quiet Journey Back
Once the permitted time ended, we returned home to cold bread sauce 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.
By then it was quite late, and snowing, and I remember experiencing a letdown – did we lose the holiday?
Recovery and Retrospection
Although our friend eventually recovered, he had actually punctured a lung and subsequently contracted DVT. And, even if that particular Christmas 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 am not in a position to judge, but its annual retelling 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”.