I Took a Family Friend to A&E – and he went from peaky to barely responsive on the way.

He has always been a man of a truly outsized personality. Witty, unsentimental – and hardly ever declining to a further glass. At family parties, he would be the one discussing the most recent controversy to befall a member of parliament, or amusing us with accounts of the shameless infidelity of different footballers from Sheffield Wednesday during the last four decades.

Frequently, we would share the morning of Christmas Day with him and his family, then departing for our own celebrations. However, one holiday season, about 10 years ago, when he was supposed to be meeting family abroad, he took a fall on the steps, holding a drink in one hand, suitcase in the other, and fractured his ribs. He was treated at the hospital and advised against air travel. Thus, he found himself back with us, making the best of it, but looking increasingly peaky.

The Day Progressed

The morning rolled on but the stories were not coming like they normally did. He was convinced he was OK but his condition seemed to contradict this. He tried to make it upstairs 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, we resolved to drive him to the emergency room.

The idea of calling for an ambulance crossed our minds, but how much of a delay would there be on Christmas Day?

A Deteriorating Condition

Upon our arrival, he’d gone from unwell to almost unconscious. People in the waiting room aided us help him reach a treatment area, where the characteristic scent of hospital food and wind filled the air.

Different though, was the spirit. There were heroic attempts at holiday cheer everywhere you looked, despite the underlying depressing and institutional feel; decorations dangled from IV poles and bowls of Christmas pudding congealed on nightstands.

Cheerful nurses, who certainly would have chosen to be at home, were working diligently and using that lovely local expression so peculiar to the area: “duck”.

Heading Home for Leftovers

When visiting hours were over, we headed home to lukewarm condiments and festive TV programming. We watched something daft on television, likely a mystery drama, and took part in a more foolish pastime, such as a regionally-themed property trading game.

The hour was already advanced, and snowing, and I remember feeling deflated – was Christmas effectively over for us?

Recovery and Retrospection

Although our friend eventually recovered, he had actually punctured a lung and subsequently contracted deep vein thrombosis. And, although that holiday 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 a little bit of dramatic licence, I couldn’t possibly comment, but the story’s yearly repetition certainly hasn’t hurt my ego. In keeping with our friend’s motto: “don’t let the truth get in the way of a good story”.