I Took 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 bigger-than-life figure. Clever and unemotional – and not one to say no to a further glass. During family gatherings, he’s the one gossiping about the latest scandal to befall a local MP, or entertaining us with stories of the shameless infidelity of various Sheffield Wednesday players for forty years.

We would often spend the holiday morning with him and his family, before going our separate ways. However, one holiday season, roughly a decade past, when he was supposed to be meeting family abroad, he took a fall on the steps, with a glass of whisky in hand, suitcase in the other, and fractured his ribs. Medical staff had treated him and instructed him to avoid flying. Consequently, he ended up back with us, doing his best to manage, but looking increasingly peaky.

The Day Progressed

The morning rolled on but the anecdotes weren’t flowing in their typical fashion. He was convinced he was OK but his appearance suggested otherwise. He attempted to go upstairs for a nap but found he could not; he tried, gingerly, to eat Christmas lunch, and failed.

So, before I’d so much as put on a festive hat, my mother and I made the choice to drive him to the emergency room.

We thought about calling an ambulance, but how much of a delay would there be on Christmas Day?

A Deteriorating Condition

By the time we got there, his state had progressed from poorly to hardly aware. Fellow patients assisted us help him reach a treatment area, where the characteristic scent of clinical cuisine and atmosphere was noticeable.

What was distinct, however, was the mood. People were making brave attempts at festive gaiety everywhere you looked, notwithstanding the fundamental clinical and somber atmosphere; tinsel hung from drip stands and dishes of festive dessert sat uneaten on nightstands.

Positive medical attendants, who certainly would have chosen to be at home, were bustling about and using that great term of endearment so particular to the area: “duck”.

A Subdued Return Home

Once the permitted time ended, we headed home to lukewarm condiments and Christmas telly. We viewed something silly on television, likely a mystery drama, and took part in a more foolish pastime, such as Sheffield’s take on Monopoly.

It was already late, and it had begun to snow, and I remember feeling deflated – did we lose the holiday?

Healing and Reflection

While our friend did get better in time, he had in fact suffered a punctured lung and subsequently contracted a serious circulatory condition. And, even if that particular Christmas isn’t a personal favourite, it has gone down in family lore 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 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”.