🔗 Share this article I Drove a Family Friend to A&E – and his condition shifted from peaky to scarcely conscious during the journey. This individual has long been known as a larger than life character. Witty, unsentimental – and hardly ever declining to another brandy. Whenever our families celebrated, he’s the one discussing the latest scandal to befall a member of parliament, or amusing us with accounts of the notorious womanizing of various Sheffield Wednesday players during the last four decades. It was common for us to pass the holiday morning with him and his family, then departing for our own celebrations. However, one holiday season, roughly a decade past, when he was supposed to be meeting family abroad, he took a fall on the steps, whisky in one hand, his luggage in the other, and sustained broken ribs. Medical staff had treated him and told him not to fly. So, here he was back with us, trying to cope, but seeming progressively worse. The Day Progressed Time passed, yet the anecdotes weren’t flowing like they normally did. He maintained that he felt alright but he didn’t look it. He tried to make it upstairs for a nap but couldn’t; he tried, carefully, to eat Christmas lunch, and was unsuccessful. Thus, prior to me managing to placed a party hat on my head, we resolved to drive him to the emergency room. We thought about calling an ambulance, but how long would that take on Christmas Day? A Rapid Decline When we finally reached the hospital, his state had progressed from poorly to hardly aware. People in the waiting room aided us get him to a ward, where the generic smell of clinical cuisine and atmosphere was noticeable. What was distinct, however, was the mood. People were making brave attempts at Christmas spirit in every direction, despite the underlying clinical and somber atmosphere; festive strands were attached to medical equipment and portions of holiday pudding went cold on nightstands. Positive medical attendants, who no doubt would far rather have been at home, were bustling about and using that lovely local expression so unique to the area: “duck”. A Subdued Return Home When visiting hours were over, we returned home to lukewarm condiments and holiday television. We saw a lighthearted program on television, perhaps a detective story, and engaged in an even sillier game, such as a regionally-themed property trading game. The hour was already advanced, and snow was falling, and I remember feeling deflated – was Christmas effectively over for us? The Aftermath and the Story Even though he ultimately healed, he had actually punctured a lung and went on to get a serious circulatory condition. And, even if that particular Christmas is not my most cherished memory, it has entered into our family history as “the Christmas I saved a life”. If that is completely accurate, or contains some artistic license, I couldn’t possibly comment, but its annual retelling 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”.