🔗 Share this article I Drove a Family Friend to A&E – and he went from peaky to scarcely conscious on the way. Our family friend has always been a truly outsized personality. Sharp and not prone to sentiment – and not one to say no to another brandy. Whenever our families celebrated, he’s the one chatting about the newest uproar to involve a regional politician, or regaling us with tales of the notorious womanizing of assorted players from the local club 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. However, one holiday season, some ten years back, when he was planning to join family abroad, he took a fall on the steps, holding a drink in one hand, his luggage in the other, and sustained broken ribs. The hospital had patched him up and told him not to fly. Thus, he found himself back with us, doing his best to manage, but looking increasingly peaky. The Day Progressed The morning rolled on but the humorous tales were absent like they normally did. He maintained that he felt alright but his appearance suggested otherwise. He tried to make it upstairs for a nap but was unable to; he tried, carefully, to eat Christmas lunch, and did not manage. Therefore, before I could even placed a party hat on my head, we resolved to get him to the hospital. We thought about calling an ambulance, but what would the wait time be on Christmas Day? A Rapid Decline Upon our arrival, he had moved from being peaky to barely responsive. Fellow patients assisted us get him to a ward, where the generic smell of institutional meals and air was noticeable. Different though, was the spirit. People were making brave attempts at Christmas spirit in every direction, notwithstanding the fundamental clinical and somber atmosphere; festive strands were attached to medical equipment and bowls of Christmas pudding congealed on tables next to the beds. Cheerful nurses, who certainly would have chosen to be at home, were moving busily and using that lovely local expression so peculiar to the area: “duck”. Heading Home for Leftovers Once the permitted time ended, we headed home to cold bread sauce and Christmas telly. We watched something daft on television, likely a mystery drama, and engaged in an even sillier game, such as a local version of the board game. It was already late, and snowing, and I remember experiencing a letdown – had we missed Christmas? The Aftermath and the Story While our friend did get better in time, he had truly experienced a lung puncture and later developed 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”. How factual that statement is, or involves a degree of exaggeration, I couldn’t possibly comment, but hearing it told each year has definitely been good for my self-esteem. True to his favorite phrase: “don’t let the truth get in the way of a good story”.