I Took a Family Friend to the Emergency Room – and his condition shifted from unwell to barely responsive on the way.

This individual has long been known as a truly outsized character. Clever and unemotional – and hardly ever declining to another brandy. At family parties, he’s the one chatting about the latest scandal to befall a member of parliament, or amusing us with accounts of the outrageous philandering of various Sheffield Wednesday players during the last four decades.

It was common for us to pass Christmas morning with him and his family, before going our separate ways. Yet, on a particular Christmas, some ten years back, when he was scheduled to meet family abroad, he fell down the stairs, holding a drink in one hand, a suitcase gripped in the other, and fractured his ribs. Medical staff had treated him and instructed him to avoid flying. So, here he was back with us, doing his best to manage, but looking increasingly peaky.

The Day Progressed

The morning rolled on but the anecdotes weren’t flowing as they usually were. He maintained that he felt alright but his condition seemed to contradict this. He tried to make it upstairs for a nap but couldn’t; he tried, carefully, to eat Christmas lunch, and failed.

Therefore, before I could even placed a party hat on my head, my mum and I decided to get him to the hospital.

We thought about calling an ambulance, but how much of a delay would there be on Christmas Day?

A Worrying Turn

When we finally reached the hospital, he had moved from being poorly to hardly aware. Other outpatients helped us get him to a ward, where the generic smell of clinical cuisine and atmosphere filled the air.

The atmosphere, however, was unique. There were heroic attempts at holiday cheer all around, even with the pervasive depressing and institutional feel; tinsel hung from drip stands and bowls of Christmas pudding congealed on bedside tables.

Positive medical attendants, who certainly would have chosen to be at home, were working diligently and using that lovely local expression so particular to the area: “duck”.

A Subdued Return Home

When visiting hours were over, we made our way home to lukewarm condiments and holiday television. We viewed something silly on television, probably Agatha Christie, and played something even dafter, such as Sheffield’s take on Monopoly.

It was already late, and snow was falling, and I remember experiencing a letdown – was Christmas effectively over for us?

The Aftermath and the Story

Although our friend eventually recovered, he had actually punctured a lung and later developed DVT. And, although that holiday 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 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”.