🔗 Share this article I Took a Family Friend to A&E – and he went from peaky to scarcely conscious on the way. Our family friend has always been a truly outsized character. Witty, unsentimental – and not one to say no to a further glass. At family parties, he would be the one chatting about the most recent controversy to befall a member of parliament, or regaling us with tales of the shameless infidelity of various Sheffield Wednesday players for forty years. It was common for us to pass Christmas morning with him and his family, before going our separate ways. However, one holiday season, some ten years back, when he was supposed to be meeting family abroad, he fell down the stairs, whisky in one hand, his luggage in the other, and broke his ribs. Medical staff had treated him and advised against air travel. Consequently, he ended up back with us, doing his best to manage, but seeming progressively worse. The Day Progressed The hours went by, however, the humorous tales were absent 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 found he could not; he tried, gingerly, to eat Christmas lunch, and did not manage. So, before I’d so much as put on a festive hat, we resolved to drive him to the emergency room. We considered summoning an ambulance, but how much of a delay would there be on Christmas Day? A Deteriorating Condition By the time we got there, he had moved from being poorly to hardly aware. People in the waiting room aided us guide him to a ward, where the generic smell of clinical cuisine and atmosphere was noticeable. Different though, was the spirit. People were making brave attempts at holiday cheer in every direction, even with the pervasive sterile and miserable mood; tinsel hung from drip stands and portions of holiday pudding went cold on bedside tables. Upbeat nursing staff, who certainly would have chosen to be at home, were working diligently and using that great term of endearment so particular to the area: “duck”. A Subdued Return Home After our time at the hospital concluded, we returned home to chilled holiday sides and holiday television. We saw a lighthearted program on television, likely a mystery drama, and took part in a more foolish pastime, such as a local version of the board game. The hour was already advanced, and snow was falling, and I remember having a sense of anticlimax – did we lose the holiday? Healing and Reflection Even though he ultimately healed, he had actually punctured a lung and subsequently contracted deep vein thrombosis. And, although that holiday is not my most cherished memory, it has become part of family legend as “the Christmas I saved a life”. Whether that’s strictly true, or involves a degree of exaggeration, I couldn’t possibly comment, but the story’s yearly repetition has definitely been good for my self-esteem. True to his favorite phrase: “don’t let the truth get in the way of a good story”.