I Took a Family Friend to the Emergency Room – and he went from unwell to barely responsive during the journey.

He has always been a man of a truly outsized figure. Clever and unemotional – and hardly ever declining to an extra drink. During family gatherings, he’s the one chatting about the latest scandal to catch up with a regional politician, or entertaining us with stories of the shameless infidelity of different footballers from Sheffield Wednesday over the past 40 years.

We would often spend the morning of Christmas Day with him and his family, prior to heading off to our own plans. But, one Christmas, some ten years back, when he was scheduled to meet family abroad, he tumbled down the staircase, holding a drink in one hand, suitcase in the other, and broke his ribs. Medical staff had treated him and instructed him to avoid flying. So, here he was back with us, doing his best to manage, but looking increasingly peaky.

The Morning Rolled On

The hours went by, however, the humorous tales were absent like they normally did. He maintained that he felt alright but his appearance suggested otherwise. He attempted to go upstairs for a nap but couldn’t; he tried, carefully, to eat Christmas lunch, and failed.

Thus, prior to me managing to put on a festive hat, we resolved to take him to A&E.

The idea of calling for an ambulance crossed our minds, but how much of a delay would there be on Christmas Day?

A Rapid Decline

By the time we got there, he’d gone from peaky to barely responsive. Fellow patients assisted us get him to a ward, where the distinctive odor of institutional meals and air permeated the space.

The atmosphere, however, was unique. There were heroic attempts at festive gaiety everywhere you looked, despite the underlying clinical and somber atmosphere; festive strands were attached to medical equipment and bowls of Christmas pudding congealed on bedside tables.

Positive medical attendants, who no doubt would far rather have been at home, were bustling about and using that lovely local expression so particular to the area: “duck”.

A Subdued Return Home

When visiting hours were over, we returned home to chilled holiday sides and holiday television. We saw a lighthearted program on television, probably Agatha Christie, and took part in a more foolish pastime, such as Sheffield’s take on Monopoly.

The hour was already advanced, and snowing, and I remember experiencing a letdown – was Christmas effectively over for us?

Healing and Reflection

Even though he ultimately healed, he had in fact suffered a punctured lung and later developed DVT. And, even if that particular 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 a little bit of dramatic licence, I couldn’t possibly comment, but its annual retelling has done no damage to my pride. In keeping with our friend’s motto: “don’t let the truth get in the way of a good story”.