I Drove a Close Friend of the Family to the Emergency Room – and he went from unwell to scarcely conscious on the way.
He has always been a man of a bigger-than-life figure. Witty, unsentimental – and never one to refuse to another brandy. During family gatherings, he is the person discussing the newest uproar to befall a local MP, or amusing us with accounts 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, before going our separate ways. However, one holiday season, some ten years back, when he was scheduled to meet family abroad, he tumbled down the staircase, holding a drink in one hand, his luggage in the other, and broke his ribs. He was treated at the hospital and advised against air travel. Consequently, he ended up back with us, doing his best to manage, but seeming progressively worse.
The Day Progressed
The hours went by, however, the stories were not coming like they normally did. He insisted he was fine but his appearance suggested otherwise. He endeavored to climb the stairs for a nap but found he could not; he tried, cautiously, to eat Christmas lunch, and did not manage.
So, before I’d so much as placed a party hat on my head, we resolved 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 Worrying Turn
Upon our arrival, he’d gone from unwell to almost unconscious. Other outpatients helped us get him to a ward, where the distinctive odor of hospital food and wind filled the air.
Different though, was the spirit. People were making brave attempts at Christmas spirit everywhere you looked, even with the pervasive sterile and miserable mood; festive strands were attached to medical equipment and dishes of festive dessert sat uneaten on nightstands.
Cheerful nurses, who no doubt would far rather have been at home, were bustling about and using that charming colloquial address so peculiar to the area: “duck”.
Heading Home for Leftovers
After our time at the hospital concluded, we headed home to chilled holiday sides and holiday television. We saw a lighthearted program on television, likely a mystery drama, and took part in a more foolish pastime, such as a regionally-themed property trading game.
It was already late, and it had begun to snow, and I remember experiencing a letdown – did we lose the holiday?
Recovery and Retrospection
While our friend did get better in time, he had in fact suffered a punctured lung and subsequently contracted a serious circulatory condition. And, while that Christmas is not my most cherished memory, it has entered into our family history as “the Christmas I saved a life”.
If that is completely accurate, or involves a degree of exaggeration, I am not in a position to judge, but the story’s yearly repetition certainly hasn’t hurt my ego. In keeping with our friend’s motto: “don’t let the truth get in the way of a good story”.