I Drove a Close Friend of the Family to the Emergency Room – and his condition shifted from peaky to scarcely conscious on the way.
Our family friend has always been a larger than life personality. Witty, unsentimental – and not one to say no to an extra drink. During family gatherings, he is the person gossiping about the newest uproar to befall a regional politician, or amusing us with accounts of the notorious womanizing of assorted players from the local club for forty years.
Frequently, we would share Christmas morning with him and his family, then departing for our own celebrations. Yet, on a particular Christmas, roughly a decade past, when he was supposed to be meeting family abroad, he tumbled down the staircase, with a glass of whisky in hand, suitcase in the other, and sustained broken ribs. He was treated at the hospital and told him not to fly. Thus, he found himself back with us, doing his best to manage, but seeming progressively worse.
The Morning Rolled On
The hours went by, however, the humorous tales were absent like they normally did. He was convinced he was OK but his appearance suggested otherwise. He attempted to go upstairs for a nap but couldn’t; he tried, carefully, to eat Christmas lunch, and did not manage.
Therefore, before I could even placed a party hat on my head, my mum and I decided to get him to the hospital.
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, his state had progressed from poorly to hardly aware. People in the waiting room aided us get him to a ward, where the distinctive odor of hospital food and wind permeated the space.
The atmosphere, however, was unique. There were heroic attempts at festive gaiety in every direction, even with the pervasive sterile and miserable mood; tinsel hung from drip stands and bowls of Christmas pudding congealed on nightstands.
Upbeat nursing staff, who certainly would have chosen to be at home, were working diligently and using that great term of endearment so unique to the area: “duck”.
Heading Home for Leftovers
When visiting hours were over, we headed home to lukewarm condiments and holiday television. We saw a lighthearted program on television, likely a mystery drama, and played something even dafter, such as Sheffield’s take on Monopoly.
The hour was already advanced, and snow was falling, and I remember feeling deflated – did we lose the holiday?
Recovery and Retrospection
Although our friend eventually recovered, he had actually punctured a lung and subsequently contracted a serious circulatory condition. And, even if that particular Christmas isn’t a personal favourite, it has become part of family legend as “the Christmas I saved a life”.
How factual that statement is, or involves a degree of exaggeration, is not for me to definitively say, but its annual retelling 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”.
