🔗 Share this article I Drove a Family Friend to A&E – and his condition shifted from peaky to scarcely conscious on the way. Our family friend has always been a truly outsized personality. Witty, unsentimental – and not one to say no to a further glass. During family gatherings, he is the person discussing the latest scandal to catch up with a local MP, or amusing us with accounts of the outrageous philandering of assorted players from the local club during the last four decades. We would often spend Christmas morning with him and his family, then departing for our own celebrations. However, one holiday season, about 10 years ago, 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. Medical staff had treated him and told him not to fly. Consequently, he ended up back with us, trying to cope, but looking increasingly peaky. The Morning Rolled On The hours went by, however, the anecdotes weren’t flowing in their typical fashion. He was convinced he was OK but his appearance suggested otherwise. He attempted to go upstairs for a nap but found he could not; he tried, gingerly, to eat Christmas lunch, and was unsuccessful. Thus, prior to me managing to don any celebratory headwear, my mum and I decided 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 Upon our arrival, his state had progressed from poorly to hardly aware. Fellow patients assisted us help him reach a treatment area, where the generic smell of clinical cuisine and atmosphere was noticeable. Different though, was the spirit. One could see valiant efforts at festive gaiety all around, even with the pervasive sterile and miserable mood; tinsel hung from drip stands and bowls of Christmas pudding congealed on nightstands. Positive medical attendants, who no doubt would far rather have been at home, were working diligently and using that great term of endearment so unique to the area: “duck”. A Quiet Journey Back Once the permitted time ended, we headed home to cold bread sauce and Christmas telly. We viewed something silly on television, probably Agatha Christie, and played something even dafter, such as a regionally-themed property trading game. The hour was already advanced, and it had begun to snow, and I remember having a sense of anticlimax – had we missed Christmas? Healing and Reflection Although our friend eventually recovered, he had actually punctured a lung and subsequently contracted deep vein thrombosis. And, even if that particular Christmas isn’t a personal favourite, 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 its annual retelling 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”.