🔗 Share this article I Took a Family Friend to A&E – and he went from peaky to barely responsive on the way. This individual has long been known as a bigger-than-life character. Clever and unemotional – and not one to say no to another brandy. Whenever our families celebrated, he is the person gossiping about the most recent controversy to befall a local MP, or regaling us with tales of the shameless infidelity of different footballers from Sheffield Wednesday during the last four decades. Frequently, we would share the holiday 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 fell down the stairs, whisky in one hand, his luggage in the other, and sustained broken ribs. He was treated at the hospital and instructed him to avoid flying. So, here he was back with us, trying to cope, but looking increasingly peaky. The Morning Rolled On The morning rolled on but the anecdotes weren’t flowing like they normally did. He insisted he was fine but he didn’t look it. He tried to make it upstairs for a nap but couldn’t; he tried, cautiously, to eat Christmas lunch, and did not manage. So, before I’d so much as don any celebratory headwear, my mum and I decided to take him to A&E. We considered summoning an ambulance, but what would the wait time be on Christmas Day? A Rapid Decline When we finally reached the hospital, his state had progressed from peaky to barely responsive. People in the waiting room aided us get him to a ward, where the distinctive odor of institutional meals and air was noticeable. What was distinct, however, was the mood. There were heroic attempts at holiday cheer in every direction, notwithstanding the fundamental depressing and institutional feel; tinsel hung from drip stands and dishes of festive dessert sat uneaten on tables next to the beds. Positive medical attendants, who undoubtedly would have preferred to be at home, were working diligently and using that great term of endearment so particular to the area: “duck”. A Subdued Return Home Once the permitted time ended, we headed home to lukewarm condiments and festive TV programming. We saw a lighthearted program on television, perhaps a detective story, and engaged in an even sillier game, such as Sheffield’s take on Monopoly. By then it was quite late, and snowing, and I remember experiencing a letdown – did we lose the holiday? Healing and Reflection Although our friend eventually recovered, he had truly experienced a lung puncture and later developed deep vein thrombosis. And, even if that particular Christmas is not my most cherished memory, it has become part of family legend as “the Christmas I saved a life”. If that is completely accurate, 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”.