🔗 Share this article I Took a Family Friend to the Emergency Room – and he went from peaky to scarcely conscious during the journey. He has always been a man of a larger than life figure. Clever and unemotional – and hardly ever declining to an extra drink. At family parties, he would be the one discussing the most recent controversy to involve a member of parliament, or amusing us with accounts of the outrageous philandering of various Sheffield Wednesday players over the past 40 years. We would often spend the holiday morning with him and his family, prior to heading off to our own plans. But, one Christmas, roughly a decade past, when he was supposed to be meeting family abroad, he took a fall on the steps, with a glass of whisky in hand, a suitcase gripped in the other, and fractured his ribs. Medical staff had treated him and told him not to fly. So, here he was back with us, trying to cope, but appearing more and more unwell. The Day Progressed The morning rolled on but the anecdotes weren’t flowing in their typical fashion. He was convinced he was OK but he didn’t look it. He attempted to go upstairs 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 placed a party hat on my head, 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 By the time we got there, he’d gone from peaky to barely responsive. Fellow patients assisted us get him to a ward, where the characteristic scent of hospital food and wind permeated the space. The atmosphere, however, was unique. People were making brave attempts at holiday cheer in every direction, despite the underlying sterile and miserable mood; festive strands were attached to medical equipment and dishes of festive dessert sat uneaten on tables next to the beds. Upbeat nursing staff, who undoubtedly would have preferred to be at home, were bustling about and using that lovely local expression so particular to the area: “duck”. Heading Home for Leftovers After our time at the hospital concluded, we headed home to cold bread sauce and festive TV programming. We watched something daft on television, likely a mystery drama, and engaged in an even sillier game, such as a regionally-themed property trading game. It was already late, and it had begun to snow, and I remember having a sense of anticlimax – was Christmas effectively over for us? Healing and Reflection Even though he ultimately healed, he had truly experienced a lung puncture and later developed a serious circulatory condition. And, even if that particular Christmas isn’t a personal favourite, it has become part of family legend as “the Christmas I saved a life”. How factual that statement is, 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. And, as our friend always says: “don’t let the truth get in the way of a good story”.