🔗 Share this article I Took a Close Friend of the Family to A&E – and he went from peaky to barely responsive during the journey. He has always been a man of a truly outsized personality. Sharp and not prone to sentiment – and never one to refuse to an extra drink. During family gatherings, he’s the one chatting about the latest scandal to befall a member of parliament, or amusing us with accounts of the shameless infidelity 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. But, one Christmas, roughly a decade past, when he was scheduled to meet family abroad, he took a fall on the steps, with a glass of whisky in hand, a suitcase gripped in the other, and broke his ribs. The hospital had patched him up and instructed him to avoid flying. Thus, he found himself back with us, making the best of it, but seeming progressively worse. As Time Passed The morning rolled on but the stories were not coming as they usually were. He maintained that he felt alright but his appearance suggested otherwise. He endeavored to climb the stairs for a nap but couldn’t; he tried, cautiously, to eat Christmas lunch, and failed. So, before I’d so much as put on a festive hat, my mum and I decided to drive him to the emergency room. The idea of calling for an ambulance crossed our minds, but how long would that take on Christmas Day? A Rapid Decline When we finally reached the hospital, he’d gone from poorly to hardly aware. Other outpatients helped us get him to a ward, where the characteristic scent of hospital food and wind filled the air. The atmosphere, however, was unique. One could see valiant efforts at Christmas spirit everywhere you looked, notwithstanding the fundamental depressing and institutional feel; decorations dangled from IV poles and portions of holiday pudding went cold on nightstands. Upbeat nursing staff, who certainly would have chosen to be at home, were bustling about and using that lovely local expression so unique to the area: “duck”. A Quiet Journey Back When visiting hours were over, we returned home to chilled holiday sides and festive TV programming. We viewed something silly on television, probably Agatha Christie, and engaged in an even sillier game, such as a local version of the board game. The hour was already advanced, and it had begun to snow, and I remember having a sense of anticlimax – had we missed Christmas? Healing and Reflection Although our friend eventually recovered, he had truly experienced a lung puncture and subsequently contracted a serious circulatory condition. And, even if that particular Christmas does not rank among my favorites, it has entered into our family history as “the Christmas I saved a life”. How factual that statement is, or involves a degree of exaggeration, I am not in a position to judge, but its annual retelling 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”.