I Drove a Close Friend of the Family to the Emergency Room – and he went from peaky to scarcely conscious on the way.
Our family friend has always been a bigger-than-life character. Witty, unsentimental – and never one to refuse to a further glass. During family gatherings, he is the person discussing the latest scandal to befall a regional politician, or amusing us with accounts of the notorious womanizing of assorted players from the local club during the last four decades.
Frequently, we would share the morning of Christmas Day with him and his family, prior to heading off to our own plans. But, one Christmas, roughly a decade past, when he was scheduled to meet family abroad, he took a fall on the steps, holding a drink in one hand, suitcase in the other, and fractured his ribs. He was treated at the hospital and instructed him to avoid flying. Consequently, he ended up back with us, trying to cope, but looking increasingly peaky.
The Morning Rolled On
The hours went by, however, the humorous tales were absent in their typical fashion. He maintained that he felt alright but his appearance suggested otherwise. He endeavored to climb the stairs for a nap but couldn’t; he tried, gingerly, to eat Christmas lunch, and failed.
Therefore, before I could even put on a festive hat, we resolved to drive him to the emergency room.
We considered summoning an ambulance, but how long would that take 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 generic smell of hospital food and wind filled the air.
Different though, was the spirit. 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 portions of holiday pudding went cold on nightstands.
Positive medical attendants, who no doubt would far rather have been at home, were moving busily and using that charming colloquial address so particular to the area: “duck”.
A Quiet Journey Back
When visiting hours were over, we headed home to cold bread sauce and holiday television. We viewed something silly on television, likely a mystery drama, and engaged in an even sillier game, such as a local version of the board game.
By then it was quite late, and snowing, and I remember feeling deflated – did we lose the holiday?
Healing and Reflection
Although our friend eventually recovered, he had actually punctured a lung and later developed DVT. And, although that holiday is not my most cherished memory, it has become part of family legend as “the Christmas I saved a life”.
If that is completely accurate, or a little bit of dramatic licence, I am not in a position to judge, but the story’s yearly repetition certainly hasn’t hurt my ego. True to his favorite phrase: “don’t let the truth get in the way of a good story”.
