🔗 Share this article I Drove a Family Friend to the Emergency Room – and his condition shifted from peaky to barely responsive during the journey. This individual has long been known as a bigger-than-life character. Witty, unsentimental – and never one to refuse to an extra drink. During family gatherings, he is the person discussing the latest scandal to involve a regional politician, or amusing us with accounts of the notorious womanizing of assorted players from the local club over the past 40 years. Frequently, we would share 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 planning to join family abroad, he fell down the stairs, whisky in one hand, his luggage 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, doing his best to manage, but looking increasingly peaky. The Morning Rolled On The hours went by, however, the stories were not coming like they normally did. He insisted he was fine but he didn’t look it. He tried to make it upstairs for a nap but couldn’t; he tried, carefully, to eat Christmas lunch, and did not manage. 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 thought about calling an ambulance, but what would the wait time be on Christmas Day? A Rapid Decline When we finally reached the hospital, his state had progressed from poorly to hardly aware. Other outpatients helped us guide him to a ward, where the generic smell of clinical cuisine and atmosphere filled the air. Different though, was the spirit. People were making brave attempts at Christmas spirit everywhere you looked, notwithstanding the fundamental sterile and miserable mood; tinsel hung from drip stands and portions of holiday pudding went cold on tables next to the beds. Positive medical attendants, who certainly would have chosen to be at home, were moving busily and using that great term of endearment so peculiar to the area: “duck”. A Subdued Return Home After our time at the hospital concluded, we headed home to lukewarm condiments and Christmas telly. We saw a lighthearted program on television, perhaps a detective story, and took part in a more foolish pastime, such as a local version of the board game. The hour was already advanced, and it had begun to snow, and I remember feeling deflated – had we missed Christmas? The Aftermath and the Story While our friend did get better in time, he had actually punctured a lung and subsequently contracted deep vein thrombosis. And, while that Christmas does not rank among my favorites, 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 has done no damage to my pride. And, as our friend always says: “don’t let the truth get in the way of a good story”.