🔗 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 larger than life personality. Sharp and not prone to sentiment – and hardly ever declining to a further glass. At family parties, he would be the one chatting about the newest uproar to catch up with a member of parliament, or entertaining us with stories of the notorious womanizing of various Sheffield Wednesday players for forty years. We would often spend Christmas morning with him and his family, before going our separate ways. However, one holiday season, about 10 years ago, when he was planning to join family abroad, he took a fall on the steps, whisky in one hand, a suitcase gripped in the other, and fractured his ribs. Medical staff had treated him and told him not to fly. Consequently, he ended up back with us, trying to cope, but looking increasingly peaky. The Morning Rolled On The hours went by, however, the stories were not coming in their typical fashion. He maintained that he felt alright but his appearance suggested otherwise. He attempted to go upstairs for a nap but couldn’t; he tried, gingerly, to eat Christmas lunch, and failed. So, before I’d so much as put on a festive hat, we resolved 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 Worrying Turn Upon our arrival, he’d gone from unwell to almost unconscious. Fellow patients assisted us guide him to a ward, where the characteristic scent of clinical cuisine and atmosphere permeated the space. Different though, was the spirit. People were making brave attempts at holiday cheer all around, even with the pervasive clinical and somber atmosphere; tinsel hung from drip stands and bowls of Christmas pudding congealed on bedside tables. Positive medical attendants, who certainly would have chosen to be at home, were working diligently and using that lovely local expression so peculiar to the area: “duck”. A Subdued Return Home Once the permitted time ended, we headed home to chilled holiday sides and festive TV programming. We viewed something silly on television, likely a mystery drama, and played something even dafter, such as Sheffield’s take on Monopoly. The hour was already advanced, and it had begun to snow, and I remember experiencing a letdown – was Christmas effectively over for us? Healing and Reflection Although our friend eventually recovered, he had in fact suffered a punctured lung and went on to get deep vein thrombosis. 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”. Whether that’s strictly true, or contains some artistic license, I couldn’t possibly comment, but the story’s yearly repetition has definitely been good for my self-esteem. In keeping with our friend’s motto: “don’t let the truth get in the way of a good story”.