🔗 Share this article I Drove a Family Friend to A&E – and he went from peaky to scarcely conscious on the way. He has always been a man of a bigger-than-life figure. Witty, unsentimental – and hardly ever declining to a further glass. At family parties, he would be the one chatting about the most recent controversy to catch up with a regional politician, or regaling us with tales of the shameless infidelity of various Sheffield Wednesday players over the past 40 years. It was common for us to pass the morning of Christmas Day with him and his family, then departing for our own celebrations. Yet, on a particular Christmas, about 10 years ago, when he was scheduled to meet family abroad, he took a fall on the steps, whisky in one hand, suitcase in the other, and fractured his ribs. The hospital had patched him up and told him not to fly. So, here he was back with us, making the best of it, but seeming progressively worse. The Morning Rolled On The morning rolled on but the humorous tales were absent 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 found he could not; he tried, gingerly, to eat Christmas lunch, and failed. Therefore, before I could even placed a party hat on my head, we resolved to drive him to the emergency room. We thought about calling an ambulance, but how much of a delay would there be on Christmas Day? A Rapid Decline Upon our arrival, he’d gone from peaky to barely responsive. Fellow patients assisted us get him to a ward, where the characteristic scent of institutional meals and air permeated the space. What was distinct, however, was the mood. People were making brave attempts at festive gaiety in every direction, even with the pervasive depressing and institutional feel; festive strands were attached to medical equipment and dishes of festive dessert sat uneaten on bedside tables. Upbeat nursing staff, who undoubtedly would have preferred to be at home, were bustling about and using that great term of endearment so peculiar to the area: “duck”. Heading Home for Leftovers After our time at the hospital concluded, we returned home to cold bread sauce and holiday television. We saw a lighthearted program on television, likely a mystery drama, and engaged in an even sillier game, such as Sheffield’s take on Monopoly. By then it was quite late, and it had begun to snow, and I remember feeling deflated – had we missed Christmas? Healing and Reflection Although our friend eventually recovered, he had in fact suffered a punctured lung and later developed deep vein thrombosis. 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. And, as our friend always says: “don’t let the truth get in the way of a good story”.