🔗 Share this article I Took a Family Friend to A&E – and he went from unwell to scarcely conscious on the way. He has always been a man of a larger than life character. Sharp and not prone to sentiment – and never one to refuse to a further glass. Whenever our families celebrated, he’s the one gossiping about the most recent controversy to befall a local MP, or amusing us with accounts of the outrageous philandering of various Sheffield Wednesday players during the last four decades. We would often spend the morning of Christmas Day with him and his family, then departing for our own celebrations. But, one Christmas, about 10 years ago, when he was supposed to be meeting family abroad, he took a fall on the steps, holding a drink in one hand, his luggage in the other, and broke his ribs. He was treated at the hospital and instructed him to avoid flying. Thus, he found himself back with us, doing his best to manage, but appearing more and more unwell. As Time Passed 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 couldn’t; he tried, carefully, to eat Christmas lunch, and failed. Thus, prior to me managing to placed a party hat on my head, my mum and I decided to drive him to the emergency room. The idea of calling for an ambulance crossed our minds, but how long would that take on Christmas Day? A Deteriorating Condition Upon our arrival, his state had progressed from peaky to barely responsive. People in the waiting room aided us guide him to a ward, where the generic smell of hospital food and wind was noticeable. The atmosphere, however, was unique. People were making brave attempts at Christmas spirit in every direction, notwithstanding the fundamental clinical and somber atmosphere; decorations dangled from IV poles and dishes of festive dessert sat uneaten on bedside tables. Positive medical attendants, 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 Quiet Journey Back When visiting hours were over, we returned home to cold bread sauce and festive TV programming. We saw a lighthearted program on television, probably Agatha Christie, 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 experiencing a letdown – was Christmas effectively over for us? Recovery and Retrospection Although our friend eventually recovered, he had truly experienced a lung puncture and subsequently contracted deep vein thrombosis. And, although that holiday does not rank among my favorites, it has gone down in family lore as “the Christmas I saved a life”. If that is completely accurate, or involves a degree of exaggeration, is not for me to definitively say, but hearing it told each year has definitely been good for my self-esteem. In keeping with our friend’s motto: “don’t let the truth get in the way of a good story”.