🔗 Share this article I Took a Family Friend to the Emergency Room – and his condition shifted from peaky to scarcely conscious during the journey. Our family friend has always been a bigger-than-life character. Witty, unsentimental – and not one to say no to an extra drink. Whenever our families celebrated, he would be the one chatting about the newest uproar to involve a member of parliament, or regaling us with tales of the notorious womanizing of assorted players from the local club during the last four decades. Frequently, we would share the holiday morning with him and his family, before going our separate ways. However, one holiday season, about 10 years ago, when he was planning to join family abroad, he tumbled down the staircase, holding a drink in one hand, a suitcase gripped in the other, and fractured his ribs. Medical staff had treated him and instructed him to avoid flying. So, here he was back with us, making the best of it, but seeming progressively worse. As Time Passed The hours went by, however, the humorous tales were absent in their typical fashion. He insisted he was fine but his appearance suggested otherwise. He endeavored to climb the stairs for a nap but was unable to; he tried, gingerly, to eat Christmas lunch, and did not manage. Thus, prior to me managing to don any celebratory headwear, we resolved to take him to A&E. We thought about calling an ambulance, but what would the wait time be on Christmas Day? A Deteriorating Condition When we finally reached the hospital, his state had progressed from peaky to barely responsive. People in the waiting room aided us guide him to a ward, where the distinctive odor of hospital food and wind permeated the space. The atmosphere, however, was unique. One could see valiant efforts at holiday cheer in every direction, even with the pervasive clinical and somber atmosphere; tinsel hung from drip stands and bowls of Christmas pudding congealed on bedside tables. Cheerful nurses, who certainly would have chosen to be at home, were working diligently and using that lovely local expression so unique to the area: “duck”. Heading Home for Leftovers After our time at the hospital concluded, we made our way home to cold bread sauce and holiday television. We saw a lighthearted program on television, likely a mystery drama, and played something even dafter, such as a regionally-themed property trading game. The hour was already advanced, and snow was falling, and I remember experiencing a letdown – was Christmas effectively over for us? The Aftermath and the Story Although our friend eventually recovered, he had actually punctured a lung and later developed a serious circulatory condition. And, while that Christmas is not my most cherished memory, it has gone down in family lore as “the Christmas I saved a life”. How factual that statement is, or contains some artistic license, is not for me to definitively say, but hearing it told each year certainly hasn’t hurt my ego. In keeping with our friend’s motto: “don’t let the truth get in the way of a good story”.