🔗 Share this article I Drove a Family Friend to A&E – and he went from peaky to scarcely conscious on the way. Our family friend has always been a larger than life personality. Witty, unsentimental – and never one to refuse to another brandy. At family parties, he would be the one discussing the newest uproar to involve a member of parliament, or amusing us with accounts of the notorious womanizing of assorted players from the local club over the past 40 years. We would often spend the morning of Christmas Day with him and his family, before going our separate ways. However, one holiday season, some ten years back, when he was scheduled to meet family abroad, he fell down the stairs, holding a drink in one hand, a suitcase gripped in the other, and sustained broken ribs. The hospital had patched him up and told him not to fly. So, here he was back with us, trying to cope, but appearing more and more unwell. The Morning Rolled On The morning rolled on but the stories were not coming 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 was unable to; he tried, carefully, to eat Christmas lunch, and failed. So, before I’d so much as put on a festive hat, my mother and I made the choice to get him to the hospital. We considered summoning an ambulance, but how much of a delay would there be on Christmas Day? A Deteriorating Condition When we finally reached the hospital, his state had progressed from poorly to hardly aware. People in the waiting room aided us help him reach a treatment area, where the generic smell of institutional meals and air permeated the space. What was distinct, however, was the mood. People were making brave attempts at holiday cheer in every direction, notwithstanding the fundamental sterile and miserable mood; festive strands were attached to medical equipment and bowls of Christmas pudding congealed on tables next to the beds. Cheerful nurses, who certainly would have chosen to be at home, were working diligently and using that lovely local expression so peculiar to the area: “duck”. Heading Home for Leftovers After our time at the hospital concluded, we returned home to chilled holiday sides and Christmas telly. We saw a lighthearted program on television, probably Agatha Christie, and took part in a more foolish pastime, such as a regionally-themed property trading game. The hour was already advanced, and it had begun to snow, and I remember experiencing a letdown – had we missed Christmas? The Aftermath and the Story While our friend did get better in time, he had in fact suffered a punctured lung and later developed deep vein thrombosis. And, while that Christmas does not rank among my favorites, it has gone down in family lore as “the Christmas I saved a life”. Whether that’s strictly true, or contains some artistic license, I am not in a position to judge, but hearing it told each year 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”.