🔗 Share this article I Drove a Close Friend of the Family to the Emergency Room – and he went from peaky to barely responsive on the way. Our family friend has always been a larger than life character. Witty, unsentimental – and not one to say no to another brandy. Whenever our families celebrated, he’s the one chatting about the newest uproar to involve a local MP, or amusing us with accounts of the notorious womanizing of different footballers from Sheffield Wednesday for forty years. It was common for us to pass Christmas morning with him and his family, then departing for our own celebrations. However, one holiday season, some ten years back, when he was planning to join family abroad, he fell down the stairs, whisky in one hand, suitcase in the other, and broke his ribs. The hospital had patched him up and advised against air travel. So, here he was back with us, doing his best to manage, but seeming progressively worse. The Day Progressed Time passed, yet the anecdotes weren’t flowing in their typical fashion. He was convinced he was OK but he didn’t look it. He endeavored to climb the stairs for a nap but found he could not; he tried, cautiously, to eat Christmas lunch, and was unsuccessful. 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 Worrying Turn Upon our arrival, he’d gone from poorly to hardly aware. Other outpatients helped us guide him to a ward, where the distinctive odor of institutional meals and air was noticeable. What was distinct, however, was the mood. One could see valiant efforts at holiday cheer in every direction, despite the underlying depressing and institutional feel; tinsel hung from drip stands and portions of holiday pudding went cold on nightstands. Positive medical attendants, who certainly would have chosen to be at home, were moving busily and using that great term of endearment so particular to the area: “duck”. A Quiet Journey Back When visiting hours were over, we made our way home to chilled holiday sides and festive TV programming. We watched something daft on television, likely a mystery drama, and played something even dafter, such as a regionally-themed property trading game. By then it was quite late, and snow was falling, and I remember experiencing a letdown – was Christmas effectively over for us? 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 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 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”.