🔗 Share this article I Drove a Family Friend to the Emergency Room – and his condition shifted from unwell to scarcely conscious on the way. This individual has long been known as a larger than life figure. Clever and unemotional – and never one to refuse to another brandy. During family gatherings, he is the person discussing the newest uproar to catch up with a regional politician, or regaling us with tales of the outrageous philandering of different footballers from Sheffield Wednesday for forty years. We would often spend the holiday morning with him and his family, before going our separate ways. But, one Christmas, roughly a decade past, when he was planning to join family abroad, he tumbled down the staircase, with a glass of whisky in hand, a suitcase gripped in the other, and fractured his ribs. He was treated at the hospital and told him not to fly. Consequently, he ended up back with us, making the best of it, but seeming progressively worse. The Day Progressed The hours went by, however, the humorous tales were absent in their typical fashion. He insisted he was fine but his appearance suggested otherwise. He tried to make it upstairs for a nap but found he could not; he tried, carefully, to eat Christmas lunch, and did not manage. Thus, prior to me managing to placed a party hat on my head, we resolved to get him to the hospital. We considered summoning an ambulance, but what would the wait time be on Christmas Day? A Worrying Turn Upon our arrival, his state had progressed from unwell to almost unconscious. Other outpatients helped us get him to a ward, where the characteristic scent of institutional meals and air permeated the space. What was distinct, however, was the mood. People were making brave attempts at holiday cheer everywhere you looked, even with the pervasive depressing and institutional feel; decorations dangled from IV poles and bowls of Christmas pudding congealed on nightstands. Upbeat nursing staff, who certainly would have chosen to be at home, were working diligently and using that lovely local expression so particular to the area: “duck”. A Subdued Return Home Once the permitted time ended, we headed home to cold bread sauce and Christmas telly. We viewed something silly on television, perhaps a detective story, and engaged in an even sillier game, such as a local version of the board game. By then it was quite late, and snowing, and I remember feeling deflated – had we missed Christmas? The Aftermath and the Story Even though he ultimately healed, he had truly experienced a lung puncture and went on to get a serious circulatory condition. And, although that holiday does not rank among my favorites, it has gone down in family lore as “the Christmas I saved a life”. If that is completely accurate, or contains some artistic license, is not for me to definitively say, but the story’s yearly repetition 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”.