🔗 Share this article I Took a Close Friend of the Family to A&E – and his condition shifted from peaky to scarcely conscious during the journey. This individual has long been known as a bigger-than-life character. Clever and unemotional – and hardly ever declining to an extra drink. During family gatherings, he is the person gossiping about the latest scandal to involve a member of parliament, or entertaining us with stories of the shameless infidelity of different footballers from Sheffield Wednesday for forty years. We would often spend the morning of Christmas Day with him and his family, prior to heading off to our own plans. But, one Christmas, some ten years back, when he was planning to join family abroad, he tumbled down the staircase, with a glass of whisky in hand, his luggage in the other, and sustained broken ribs. Medical staff had treated him and told him not to fly. Consequently, he ended up back with us, trying to cope, but seeming progressively worse. The Morning Rolled On The hours went by, however, the stories were not coming like they normally did. He was convinced he was OK but his appearance suggested otherwise. He attempted to go upstairs for a nap but found he could not; he tried, carefully, to eat Christmas lunch, and did not manage. So, before I’d so much as don any celebratory headwear, my mum and I decided to take him to A&E. The idea of calling for an ambulance crossed our minds, but how long would that take on Christmas Day? A Worrying Turn Upon our arrival, his state had progressed from poorly to hardly aware. Other outpatients helped us help him reach a treatment area, where the distinctive odor of institutional meals and air filled the air. Different though, was the spirit. There were heroic attempts at Christmas spirit everywhere you looked, despite the underlying sterile and miserable mood; festive strands were attached to medical equipment and bowls of Christmas pudding congealed on nightstands. Upbeat nursing staff, who certainly would have chosen to be at home, were working diligently and using that lovely local expression so peculiar to the area: “duck”. A Subdued Return Home When visiting hours were over, we made our way home to lukewarm condiments and festive TV programming. We saw a lighthearted program 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 it had begun to snow, and I remember feeling deflated – had we missed Christmas? Healing and Reflection While our friend did get better in time, he had actually punctured a lung and later developed deep vein thrombosis. And, even if that particular Christmas does not rank among my favorites, it has entered into our family history as “the Christmas I saved a life”. How factual that statement is, or contains some artistic license, 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”.