🔗 Share this article I Drove a Close Friend of the Family to the Emergency Room – and he went from unwell to scarcely conscious on the way. He has always been a man of a truly outsized character. Sharp and not prone to sentiment – and never one to refuse to an extra drink. During family gatherings, he would be the one gossiping about the latest scandal to involve a regional politician, or entertaining us with stories of the outrageous philandering of different footballers from Sheffield Wednesday over the past 40 years. It was common for us to pass the holiday morning with him and his family, then departing for our own celebrations. Yet, on a particular Christmas, about 10 years ago, when he was supposed to be meeting family abroad, he took a fall on the steps, whisky in one hand, suitcase in the other, and broke his ribs. He was treated at the hospital and advised against air travel. So, here he was back with us, making the best of it, but appearing more and more unwell. The Day Progressed The morning rolled on but the stories were not coming in their typical fashion. He insisted he was fine but his condition seemed to contradict this. He attempted to go upstairs for a nap but couldn’t; he tried, cautiously, to eat Christmas lunch, and was unsuccessful. Thus, prior to me managing to put on a festive hat, my mother and I made the choice to take him to A&E. We considered summoning an ambulance, but how much of a delay would there be on Christmas Day? A Rapid Decline By the time we got there, he had moved from being unwell to almost unconscious. People in the waiting room aided us guide him to a ward, where the distinctive odor of clinical cuisine and atmosphere was noticeable. The atmosphere, however, was unique. There were heroic attempts at festive gaiety in every direction, even with the pervasive clinical and somber atmosphere; decorations dangled from IV poles and portions of holiday pudding went cold on bedside tables. Cheerful nurses, 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 When visiting hours were over, we headed home to chilled holiday sides and holiday television. We saw a lighthearted program on television, likely a mystery drama, and took part in a more foolish pastime, such as a regionally-themed property trading game. By then it was quite late, and snowing, and I remember having a sense of anticlimax – had we missed Christmas? Recovery and Retrospection Even though he ultimately healed, he had truly experienced a lung puncture and went on to get DVT. And, although that holiday is not my most cherished memory, it has gone down in family lore as “the Christmas I saved a life”. Whether that’s strictly true, 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. And, as our friend always says: “don’t let the truth get in the way of a good story”.