I Drove a Family Friend to the Emergency Room – and he went from unwell to barely responsive on the way.
This individual has long been known as a bigger-than-life personality. Witty, unsentimental – and hardly ever declining to an extra drink. Whenever our families celebrated, he’s the one gossiping about the latest scandal to befall a member of parliament, or regaling us with tales of the notorious womanizing of different footballers from Sheffield Wednesday over the past 40 years.
We would often spend Christmas morning with him and his family, before going our separate ways. But, one Christmas, roughly a decade past, when he was supposed to be meeting family abroad, he took a fall on the steps, holding a drink in one hand, suitcase in the other, and fractured his ribs. The hospital had patched him up and advised against air travel. Thus, he found himself back with us, trying to cope, but appearing more and more unwell.
The Day Progressed
The hours went by, however, the stories were not coming like they normally did. He was convinced he was OK but his condition seemed to contradict this. He attempted to go upstairs for a nap but was unable to; he tried, carefully, to eat Christmas lunch, and was unsuccessful.
So, before I’d so much as placed a party hat on my head, my mother and I made the choice to drive him to the emergency room.
We thought about calling an ambulance, but how long would that take on Christmas Day?
A Deteriorating Condition
By the time we got there, his state had progressed from unwell to almost unconscious. 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. One could see valiant efforts at Christmas spirit all around, 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.
Upbeat nursing staff, who no doubt would far rather have been at home, were working diligently and using that charming colloquial address so unique to the area: “duck”.
A Subdued Return Home
Once the permitted time ended, we headed home to lukewarm condiments and holiday television. We watched something daft on television, likely a mystery drama, and took part in a more foolish pastime, such as Sheffield’s take on Monopoly.
By then it was quite late, and it had begun to snow, and I remember experiencing a letdown – was Christmas effectively over for us?
Recovery and Retrospection
While our friend did get better in time, 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 entered into our family history as “the Christmas I saved a life”.
If that is completely accurate, or contains some artistic license, I couldn’t possibly comment, but hearing it told each year has definitely been good for my self-esteem. In keeping with our friend’s motto: “don’t let the truth get in the way of a good story”.