I Took a Family Friend to A&E – and he went from unwell to barely responsive on the way.

This individual has long been known as a bigger-than-life personality. Sharp and not prone to sentiment – and hardly ever declining to a further glass. Whenever our families celebrated, he’s the one gossiping about the newest uproar to catch up with a member of parliament, or regaling us with tales of the notorious womanizing of different footballers from Sheffield Wednesday over the past 40 years.

It was common for us to pass Christmas morning with him and his family, then departing for our own celebrations. Yet, on a particular Christmas, roughly a decade past, when he was scheduled to meet family abroad, he tumbled down the staircase, whisky in one hand, suitcase in the other, and fractured his ribs. The hospital had patched him up and instructed him to avoid flying. Thus, he found himself back with us, making the best of it, but looking increasingly peaky.

The Day Progressed

The morning rolled on but the anecdotes weren’t flowing as they usually were. He was convinced he was OK but his appearance suggested otherwise. He attempted to go upstairs for a nap but was unable to; he tried, carefully, to eat Christmas lunch, and was unsuccessful.

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 much of a delay would there be on Christmas Day?

A Rapid Decline

When we finally reached the hospital, he’d gone from peaky to barely responsive. Fellow patients assisted us help him reach a treatment area, where the generic smell of clinical cuisine and atmosphere filled the air.

Different though, was the spirit. One could see valiant efforts at festive gaiety everywhere you looked, even with the pervasive sterile and miserable mood; tinsel hung from drip stands and portions of holiday pudding went cold on bedside tables.

Cheerful nurses, who no doubt would far rather have been at home, were bustling about and using that lovely local expression so particular to the area: “duck”.

A Quiet Journey Back

When visiting hours were over, we made our way home to cold bread sauce and holiday television. We viewed something silly on television, perhaps a detective story, and engaged in an even sillier game, such as Sheffield’s take on Monopoly.

The hour was already advanced, and snowing, and I remember experiencing a letdown – had we missed Christmas?

Recovery and Retrospection

While our friend did get better in time, he had truly experienced a lung puncture and subsequently contracted DVT. And, although that holiday is not my most cherished memory, it has entered into our family history as “the Christmas I saved a life”.

If that is completely accurate, or involves a degree of exaggeration, I couldn’t possibly comment, but hearing it told each year has definitely been good for my self-esteem. And, as our friend always says: “don’t let the truth get in the way of a good story”.