🔗 Share this article I Drove a Close Friend of the Family to the Emergency Room – and he went from peaky to scarcely conscious during the journey. This individual has long been known as a truly outsized figure. Sharp and not prone to sentiment – and hardly ever declining to a further glass. At family parties, he’s the one discussing the newest uproar to catch up with a regional politician, or amusing us with accounts of the outrageous philandering of different footballers from Sheffield Wednesday for forty years. 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 planning to join family abroad, he fell down the stairs, whisky in one hand, suitcase in the other, and sustained broken ribs. He was treated at the hospital and told him not to fly. So, here he was back with us, trying to cope, but seeming progressively worse. The Day Progressed The hours went by, however, the humorous tales were absent like they normally did. He insisted he was fine but his condition seemed to contradict this. He tried to make it upstairs for a nap but was unable to; he tried, cautiously, to eat Christmas lunch, and did not manage. Thus, prior to me managing to don any celebratory headwear, we resolved to drive him to the emergency room. We considered summoning an ambulance, but what would the wait time be on Christmas Day? A Rapid Decline Upon our arrival, he’d gone from poorly to hardly aware. Fellow patients assisted us help him reach a treatment area, where the distinctive odor of hospital food and wind was noticeable. What was distinct, however, was the mood. There were heroic attempts at Christmas spirit everywhere you looked, notwithstanding the fundamental clinical and somber atmosphere; tinsel hung from drip stands and dishes of festive dessert sat uneaten on tables next to the beds. Positive medical attendants, who undoubtedly would have preferred to be at home, were working diligently and using that charming colloquial address so particular to the area: “duck”. Heading Home for Leftovers Once the permitted time ended, we headed home to lukewarm condiments and festive TV programming. We saw a lighthearted program on television, perhaps a detective story, and took part in a more foolish pastime, such as Sheffield’s take on Monopoly. It was already late, and it had begun to snow, and I remember feeling deflated – had we missed Christmas? Recovery and Retrospection Even though he ultimately healed, he had truly experienced a lung puncture and later developed a serious circulatory condition. 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 a little bit of dramatic licence, I am not in a position to judge, but hearing it told each year has done no damage to my pride. In keeping with our friend’s motto: “don’t let the truth get in the way of a good story”.