I Drove a Close Friend of the Family to the Emergency Room – and his condition shifted from unwell to barely responsive on the way.

This individual has long been known as a truly outsized personality. Sharp and not prone to sentiment – and never one to refuse to another brandy. Whenever our families celebrated, he’s the one chatting about the newest uproar to catch up with a member of parliament, or entertaining us with stories of the shameless infidelity of different footballers from Sheffield Wednesday during the last four decades.

Frequently, we would share Christmas morning with him and his family, then departing for our own celebrations. Yet, on a particular Christmas, some ten years back, when he was scheduled to meet family abroad, he took a fall on the steps, holding a drink in one hand, a suitcase gripped in the other, and broke his ribs. Medical staff had treated him and instructed him to avoid flying. Consequently, he ended up back with us, making the best of it, but appearing more and more unwell.

The Morning Rolled On

Time passed, yet the stories were not coming like they normally did. He insisted he was fine but his appearance suggested otherwise. He attempted to go upstairs for a nap but was unable to; he tried, gingerly, 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 drive him to the emergency room.

We considered summoning 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 unwell to almost unconscious. Other outpatients helped us guide him to a ward, where the characteristic scent of hospital food and wind was noticeable.

Different though, was the spirit. People were making brave attempts at holiday cheer in every direction, notwithstanding the fundamental clinical and somber atmosphere; decorations dangled from IV poles and dishes of festive dessert sat uneaten on nightstands.

Cheerful nurses, who certainly would have chosen to be at home, were bustling about and using that lovely local expression so unique to the area: “duck”.

A Subdued Return Home

Once the permitted time ended, we headed home to chilled holiday sides and festive TV programming. We saw a lighthearted program on television, perhaps a detective story, and took part in a more foolish pastime, such as Sheffield’s take on Monopoly.

The hour was already advanced, and snow was falling, and I remember having a sense of anticlimax – had we missed Christmas?

Recovery and Retrospection

Although our friend eventually recovered, he had in fact suffered a punctured lung and went on to get 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 a little bit of dramatic licence, I am not in a position to judge, but hearing it told each year 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”.