I Took a Family Friend to A&E – and his condition shifted from unwell to scarcely conscious during the journey.
Our family friend has always been a bigger-than-life figure. Clever and unemotional – and hardly ever declining to another brandy. Whenever our families celebrated, he would be the one discussing the newest uproar to catch up with a member of parliament, or entertaining us with stories of the outrageous philandering of assorted players from the local club for forty years.
It was common for us to pass the morning of Christmas Day with him and his family, then departing for our own celebrations. But, one Christmas, about 10 years ago, when he was supposed to be meeting family abroad, he took a fall on the steps, holding a drink in one hand, his luggage in the other, and broke his ribs. He was treated at the hospital and instructed him to avoid flying. Thus, he found himself back with us, trying to cope, but looking increasingly peaky.
The Day Progressed
The hours went by, however, the anecdotes weren’t flowing like they normally did. He maintained that he felt alright but his condition seemed to contradict this. He attempted to go upstairs for a nap but found he could not; he tried, carefully, to eat Christmas lunch, and did not manage.
Thus, prior to me managing to put on a festive hat, my mum and I decided to take him to A&E.
We considered summoning an ambulance, but how much of a delay would there be on Christmas Day?
A Deteriorating Condition
Upon our arrival, his state had progressed from peaky to barely responsive. People in the waiting room aided us help him reach a treatment area, where the distinctive odor of clinical cuisine and atmosphere permeated the space.
The atmosphere, however, was unique. There were heroic attempts at holiday cheer all around, notwithstanding the fundamental clinical and somber atmosphere; decorations dangled from IV poles and portions of holiday pudding went cold on bedside tables.
Positive medical attendants, who certainly would have chosen to be at home, were bustling about and using that lovely local expression so peculiar to the area: “duck”.
A Subdued Return Home
Once the permitted time ended, we returned home to lukewarm condiments and Christmas telly. We saw a lighthearted program on television, probably Agatha Christie, 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 feeling deflated – had we missed Christmas?
The Aftermath and the Story
Even though he ultimately healed, he had actually punctured a lung and subsequently contracted a serious circulatory condition. And, although that holiday is not my most cherished memory, it has become part of family legend as “the Christmas I saved a life”.
Whether that’s strictly true, or a little bit of dramatic licence, I couldn’t possibly comment, but its annual retelling certainly hasn’t hurt my ego. True to his favorite phrase: “don’t let the truth get in the way of a good story”.
