I Took a Family Friend to the Emergency Room – and he went from peaky to barely responsive on the way.
He has always been a man of a larger than life character. Sharp and not prone to sentiment – and not one to say no to an extra drink. Whenever our families celebrated, he would be the one gossiping about the latest scandal to involve a regional politician, or entertaining us with stories of the shameless infidelity of various Sheffield Wednesday players over the past 40 years.
Frequently, we would share Christmas morning with him and his family, before going our separate ways. But, one Christmas, some ten years back, when he was supposed to be meeting family abroad, he fell down the stairs, whisky in one hand, a suitcase gripped in the other, and sustained broken ribs. The hospital had patched him up and instructed him to avoid flying. Consequently, he ended up back with us, doing his best to manage, but looking increasingly peaky.
The Morning Rolled On
The hours went by, however, the anecdotes weren’t flowing like they normally did. He insisted he was fine but he didn’t look it. He endeavored to climb the stairs for a nap but was unable to; he tried, carefully, to eat Christmas lunch, and did not manage.
So, before I’d so much as don any celebratory headwear, we resolved to drive him to the emergency room.
We considered summoning an ambulance, but what would the wait time be on Christmas Day?
A Rapid Decline
By the time we got there, his state had progressed from poorly to hardly aware. People in the waiting room aided us help him reach a treatment area, where the generic smell of hospital food and wind permeated the space.
The atmosphere, however, was unique. One could see valiant efforts at holiday cheer in every direction, notwithstanding the fundamental depressing and institutional feel; tinsel hung from drip stands 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 unique to the area: “duck”.
A Subdued Return Home
Once the permitted time ended, we returned home to chilled holiday sides and festive TV programming. 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.
The hour was already advanced, and snow was falling, and I remember experiencing a letdown – was Christmas effectively over for us?
Healing and Reflection
Although our friend eventually recovered, he had actually punctured a lung and went on to get a serious circulatory condition. And, although that holiday does not rank among my favorites, it has gone down in family lore as “the Christmas I saved a life”.
How factual that statement is, or contains some artistic license, I am not in a position to judge, 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”.