I Drove a Family Friend to A&E – and his condition shifted from peaky to scarcely conscious during the journey.

He has always been a man of a truly outsized character. Witty, unsentimental – and hardly ever declining to another brandy. During family gatherings, he’s the one discussing the latest scandal to befall a regional politician, or entertaining us with stories of the notorious womanizing of various Sheffield Wednesday players over the past 40 years.

It was common for us to pass the holiday morning with him and his family, before going our separate ways. However, one holiday season, roughly a decade past, when he was scheduled to meet family abroad, he took a fall on the steps, with a glass of whisky in hand, suitcase in the other, and sustained broken ribs. He was treated at the hospital and advised against air travel. Consequently, he ended up back with us, making the best of it, but seeming progressively worse.

The Day Progressed

The morning rolled on but the stories were not coming like they normally did. 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, carefully, to eat Christmas lunch, and failed.

Therefore, before I could even 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 what would the wait time be on Christmas Day?

A Worrying Turn

Upon our arrival, he had moved from being peaky to barely responsive. People in the waiting room aided us help him reach a treatment area, where the characteristic scent of clinical cuisine and atmosphere was noticeable.

What was distinct, however, was the mood. There were heroic attempts at holiday cheer all around, despite the underlying clinical and somber atmosphere; tinsel hung from drip stands and bowls of Christmas pudding congealed on bedside tables.

Upbeat nursing staff, who no doubt would far rather have been at home, were moving busily and using that charming colloquial address so particular to the area: “duck”.

A Quiet Journey Back

When visiting hours were over, we returned home to lukewarm condiments and Christmas telly. We viewed something silly on television, probably Agatha Christie, and took part in a more foolish pastime, such as a local version of the board game.

By then it was quite late, and snow was falling, and I remember experiencing a letdown – did we lose the holiday?

Healing and Reflection

Even though he ultimately healed, he had in fact suffered a punctured lung and subsequently contracted deep vein thrombosis. And, while that Christmas is not my most cherished memory, it has entered into our family history as “the Christmas I saved a life”.

Whether that’s strictly true, or a little bit of dramatic licence, 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”.