🔗 Share this article I Took a Family Friend to A&E – and his condition shifted from unwell to barely responsive on the way. Our family friend has always been a truly outsized figure. Sharp and not prone to sentiment – and never one to refuse to another brandy. At family parties, he is the person discussing the newest uproar to befall a local MP, or amusing us with accounts of the shameless infidelity of assorted players from the local club during the last four decades. It was common for us to pass Christmas morning with him and his family, prior to heading off to our own plans. But, one Christmas, about 10 years ago, when he was planning to join family abroad, he fell down the stairs, whisky in one hand, suitcase in the other, and broke his ribs. Medical staff had treated him and told him not to fly. Thus, he found himself back with us, trying to cope, but appearing more and more unwell. The Morning Rolled On Time passed, yet the stories were not coming like they normally did. He was convinced he was OK but he didn’t look it. He attempted to go upstairs for a nap but found he could not; he tried, cautiously, to eat Christmas lunch, and failed. Therefore, before I could even don any celebratory headwear, my mother and I made the choice to take him to A&E. The idea of calling for an ambulance crossed our minds, but how long would that take on Christmas Day? A Deteriorating Condition When we finally reached the hospital, he’d gone from unwell to almost unconscious. Fellow patients assisted us help him reach a treatment area, where the generic smell of institutional meals and air filled the air. What was distinct, however, was the mood. People were making brave attempts at festive gaiety 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 tables next to the beds. Upbeat nursing staff, who no doubt would far rather have been at home, were working diligently and using that charming colloquial address so particular to the area: “duck”. A Subdued Return Home When visiting hours were over, we made our way home to chilled holiday sides and holiday television. We viewed something silly on television, likely a mystery drama, and took part in a more foolish pastime, such as a local version of the board game. It was already late, and it had begun to snow, and I remember feeling deflated – was Christmas effectively over for us? The Aftermath and the Story While our friend did get better in time, he had actually punctured a lung and went on to get deep vein thrombosis. And, while that Christmas is not my most cherished memory, it has become part of family legend as “the Christmas I saved a life”. If that is completely accurate, or involves a degree of exaggeration, is not for me to definitively say, but hearing it told each year certainly hasn’t hurt my ego. And, as our friend always says: “don’t let the truth get in the way of a good story”.