🔗 Share this article I Drove a Close Friend of the Family to the Emergency Room – and he went from unwell to scarcely conscious on the way. This individual has long been known as a larger than life personality. Sharp and not prone to sentiment – and hardly ever declining to a further glass. At family parties, he is the person discussing the most recent controversy to catch up with a local MP, or regaling us with tales of the notorious womanizing of various Sheffield Wednesday players over the past 40 years. We would often spend the holiday morning with him and his family, prior to heading off to our own plans. Yet, on a particular Christmas, some ten years back, when he was scheduled to meet family abroad, he took a fall on the steps, whisky in one hand, a suitcase gripped in the other, and fractured his ribs. He was treated at the hospital and instructed him to avoid flying. So, here he was back with us, doing his best to manage, but appearing more and more unwell. The Day Progressed The morning rolled on but the stories were not coming as they usually were. He was convinced he was OK but he didn’t look it. He endeavored to climb the stairs for a nap but couldn’t; he tried, carefully, to eat Christmas lunch, and did not manage. So, before I’d so much as placed a party hat on my head, we resolved to take him to A&E. We thought about calling an ambulance, but how much of a delay would there be on Christmas Day? A Deteriorating Condition When we finally reached the hospital, he’d gone from peaky to barely responsive. Fellow patients assisted us get him to a ward, where the distinctive odor of hospital food and wind was noticeable. Different though, was the spirit. One could see valiant efforts at holiday cheer everywhere you looked, notwithstanding the fundamental sterile and miserable mood; festive strands were attached to medical equipment and bowls of Christmas pudding congealed on bedside tables. Upbeat nursing staff, who no doubt would far rather have been at home, were bustling about and using that great term of endearment so unique to the area: “duck”. A Subdued Return Home After our time at the hospital concluded, we returned home to cold bread sauce and Christmas telly. We watched something daft 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 snowing, and I remember feeling deflated – did we lose the holiday? Recovery and Retrospection Even though he ultimately healed, he had actually punctured a lung and subsequently contracted a serious circulatory condition. And, while that Christmas does not rank among my favorites, it has entered into our family history as “the Christmas I saved a life”. Whether that’s strictly true, or contains some artistic license, is not for me to definitively say, but the story’s yearly repetition 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”.