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This individual has long been known as a larger than life personality. Clever and unemotional – and never one to refuse to an extra drink. During family gatherings, he’s the one chatting about the latest scandal to befall a member of parliament, or entertaining us with stories of the outrageous philandering of assorted players from the local club for forty years.

It was common for us to pass Christmas morning with him and his family, prior to heading off to our own plans. Yet, on a particular Christmas, about 10 years ago, when he was planning to join family abroad, he tumbled down the staircase, holding a drink in one hand, a suitcase gripped 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, trying to cope, but appearing more and more unwell.

As Time Passed

The hours went by, however, the anecdotes weren’t flowing like they normally did. He insisted he was fine but he didn’t look it. He attempted to go upstairs for a nap but couldn’t; he tried, cautiously, to eat Christmas lunch, and failed.

Thus, prior to me managing to don any celebratory headwear, we resolved to take him to A&E.

We considered summoning an ambulance, but how long would that take on Christmas Day?

A Rapid Decline

By the time we got there, his state had progressed from unwell to almost unconscious. People in the waiting room aided us get him to a ward, where the distinctive odor of clinical cuisine and atmosphere permeated the space.

What was distinct, however, was the mood. There were heroic attempts at festive gaiety in every direction, even with the pervasive clinical and somber atmosphere; festive strands were attached to medical equipment and portions of holiday pudding went cold on nightstands.

Cheerful nurses, who undoubtedly would have preferred to be at home, were bustling about and using that charming colloquial address so peculiar to the area: “duck”.

A Subdued Return Home

When visiting hours were over, we made our way home to chilled holiday sides and festive TV programming. We viewed something silly on television, likely a mystery drama, and engaged in an even sillier game, such as a regionally-themed property trading game.

It was already late, and it had begun to snow, and I remember having a sense of anticlimax – did we lose the holiday?

Healing and Reflection

Although our friend eventually recovered, he had actually punctured a lung and went on to get a serious circulatory condition. And, even if that particular Christmas does not rank among my favorites, it has gone down in family lore as “the Christmas I saved a life”.

How factual that statement is, or a little bit of dramatic licence, I am not in a position to judge, but the story’s yearly repetition 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”.