I Drove a Family Friend to A&E – and he went from unwell to scarcely conscious on the way.

Our family friend has always been a truly outsized character. Sharp and not prone to sentiment – and not one to say no to a further glass. During family gatherings, he is the person discussing the most recent controversy to catch up with a member of parliament, or entertaining us with stories of the outrageous philandering of various Sheffield Wednesday players over the past 40 years.

We would often spend the morning of Christmas Day with him and his family, before going our separate ways. However, one holiday season, some ten years back, when he was planning to join family abroad, he tumbled down the staircase, holding a drink in one hand, suitcase in the other, and sustained broken ribs. The hospital had patched him up and advised against air travel. Thus, he found himself back with us, doing his best to manage, but looking increasingly peaky.

The Morning Rolled On

The morning rolled on but the anecdotes weren’t flowing 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 was unable to; he tried, cautiously, to eat Christmas lunch, and did not manage.

Therefore, before I could even don any celebratory headwear, my mother and I made the choice to get him to the hospital.

We considered summoning an ambulance, but what would the wait time be on Christmas Day?

A Worrying Turn

By the time we got there, his state had progressed from unwell to almost unconscious. Other outpatients helped us guide him to a ward, where the generic smell of institutional meals and air filled the air.

The atmosphere, however, was unique. One could see valiant efforts at Christmas spirit all around, even with the pervasive clinical and somber atmosphere; decorations dangled from IV poles and portions of holiday pudding went cold on nightstands.

Upbeat nursing staff, who no doubt would far rather have been at home, were working diligently and using that lovely local expression so particular to the area: “duck”.

A Quiet Journey Back

Once the permitted time ended, we headed home to lukewarm condiments and festive TV programming. We watched something daft 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?

Recovery and Retrospection

Although our friend eventually recovered, he had truly experienced a lung puncture and later developed a serious circulatory condition. And, even if that particular Christmas isn’t a personal favourite, 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 couldn’t possibly comment, but hearing it told each year has done no damage to my pride. And, as our friend always says: “don’t let the truth get in the way of a good story”.