I Took a Family Friend to A&E – and his condition shifted from unwell to scarcely conscious on the way.
This individual has long been known as a larger than life character. Witty, unsentimental – and hardly ever declining to another brandy. During family gatherings, he is the person chatting about the latest scandal to involve a member of parliament, or amusing us with accounts of the shameless infidelity of assorted players from the local club during the last four decades.
It was common for us to pass 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 supposed to be meeting family abroad, he tumbled down the staircase, whisky in one hand, a suitcase gripped in the other, and broke his ribs. Medical staff had treated him and advised against air travel. So, here he was back with us, making the best of it, but appearing more and more unwell.
The Day Progressed
The hours went by, however, the anecdotes weren’t flowing in their typical fashion. He was convinced he was OK but his appearance suggested otherwise. He tried to make it upstairs for a nap but couldn’t; he tried, gingerly, to eat Christmas lunch, and failed.
Therefore, before I could even put on a festive hat, my mother and I made the choice to drive him to the emergency room.
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, his state had progressed from poorly to hardly aware. Fellow patients assisted us get him to a ward, where the distinctive odor of clinical cuisine and atmosphere permeated the space.
What was distinct, however, was the mood. There were heroic attempts at Christmas spirit all around, despite the underlying depressing and institutional feel; tinsel hung from drip stands and portions of holiday pudding went cold on tables next to the beds.
Positive medical attendants, who undoubtedly would have preferred to be at home, were working diligently and using that charming colloquial address so particular to the area: “duck”.
A Quiet Journey Back
When visiting hours were over, we made our way home to lukewarm condiments and holiday television. We saw a lighthearted program on television, perhaps a detective story, and took part in a more foolish pastime, such as a local version of the board game.
The hour was already advanced, and snowing, and I remember having a sense of anticlimax – was Christmas effectively over for us?
Recovery and Retrospection
Even though he ultimately healed, he had in fact suffered a punctured lung and later developed a serious circulatory condition. 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 involves a degree of exaggeration, is not for me to definitively say, but the story’s yearly repetition has definitely been good for my self-esteem. True to his favorite phrase: “don’t let the truth get in the way of a good story”.
