🔗 Share this article I Drove a Family Friend to A&E – and he went from unwell to barely responsive during the journey. Our family friend has always been a truly outsized personality. Sharp and not prone to sentiment – and hardly ever declining to an extra drink. During family gatherings, he’s the one chatting about the newest uproar to catch up with a member of parliament, or amusing us with accounts of the notorious womanizing of assorted players from the local club during the last four decades. Frequently, we would share the morning of Christmas Day 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 tumbled down the staircase, whisky in one hand, a suitcase gripped in the other, and broke his ribs. He was treated at the hospital and instructed him to avoid flying. Thus, he found himself back with us, trying to cope, but looking increasingly peaky. The Morning Rolled On The hours went by, however, the humorous tales were absent like they normally did. He was convinced he was OK but his appearance suggested otherwise. He attempted to go upstairs for a nap but was unable to; he tried, cautiously, to eat Christmas lunch, and did not manage. So, before I’d so much as placed a party hat on my head, my mother and I made the choice to get him to the hospital. We thought about calling an ambulance, but what would the wait time be on Christmas Day? A Worrying Turn Upon our arrival, he had moved from being poorly to hardly aware. People in the waiting room aided us guide him to a ward, where the distinctive odor of clinical cuisine and atmosphere was noticeable. Different though, was the spirit. There were heroic attempts at Christmas spirit in every direction, despite the underlying depressing and institutional feel; decorations dangled from IV poles and portions of holiday pudding went cold on tables next to the beds. Cheerful nurses, who undoubtedly would have preferred to be at home, were working diligently and using that lovely local expression so unique to the area: “duck”. A Subdued Return Home Once the permitted time ended, we returned home to chilled holiday sides and festive TV programming. We watched something daft on television, likely a mystery drama, and took part in a more foolish pastime, such as a local version of the board game. The hour was already advanced, and snowing, and I remember having a sense of anticlimax – did we lose the holiday? Healing and Reflection While our friend did get better in time, he had actually punctured a lung and subsequently contracted deep vein thrombosis. And, while that Christmas does not rank among my favorites, it has become part of family legend 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 the story’s yearly repetition has definitely been good for my self-esteem. In keeping with our friend’s motto: “don’t let the truth get in the way of a good story”.