🔗 Share this article I Drove a Close Friend of the Family to A&E – and his condition shifted from unwell to scarcely conscious on the way. Our family friend has always been a bigger-than-life personality. Clever and unemotional – and hardly ever declining to an extra drink. During family gatherings, he’s the one chatting about the most recent controversy to befall a local MP, or amusing us with accounts of the notorious womanizing of various Sheffield Wednesday players during the last four decades. Frequently, we would share the morning of Christmas Day with him and his family, before going our separate ways. Yet, on a particular Christmas, about 10 years ago, when he was scheduled to meet family abroad, he tumbled down the staircase, holding a drink in one hand, suitcase in the other, and fractured his 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 appearing more and more unwell. The Morning Rolled On The hours went by, however, 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 couldn’t; he tried, carefully, to eat Christmas lunch, and was unsuccessful. Thus, prior to me managing to don any celebratory headwear, my mother and I made the choice to get him to the hospital. The idea of calling for an ambulance crossed our minds, but how much of a delay would there be on Christmas Day? A Rapid Decline Upon our arrival, he had moved from being poorly to hardly aware. People in the waiting room aided us get him to a ward, where the characteristic scent of hospital food and wind permeated the space. What was distinct, however, was the mood. People were making brave attempts at holiday cheer all around, even with the pervasive sterile and miserable mood; decorations dangled from IV poles and dishes of festive dessert sat uneaten on nightstands. Cheerful nurses, who undoubtedly would have preferred to be at home, were moving busily 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 chilled holiday sides 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. The hour was already advanced, and snowing, and I remember having a sense of anticlimax – did we lose the holiday? 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, even if that particular Christmas isn’t a personal favourite, it has gone down in family lore as “the Christmas I saved a life”. If that is completely accurate, or involves a degree of exaggeration, is not for me to definitively say, but hearing it told each year 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”.