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This individual has long been known as a bigger-than-life personality. Clever and unemotional – and hardly ever declining to another brandy. During family gatherings, he’s the one gossiping about the most recent controversy to befall a member of parliament, or amusing us with accounts of the shameless infidelity of various Sheffield Wednesday players for forty years.

Frequently, we would share the morning of Christmas Day with him and his family, prior to heading off to our own plans. However, one holiday season, roughly a decade past, when he was planning to join family abroad, he took a fall on the steps, holding a drink in one hand, his luggage in the other, and sustained broken ribs. Medical staff had treated him and told him not to fly. Thus, he found himself back with us, making the best of it, but appearing more and more unwell.

As Time Passed

Time passed, yet the stories were not coming as they usually were. He was convinced he was OK but his condition seemed to contradict this. He attempted to go upstairs for a nap but found he could not; he tried, gingerly, to eat Christmas lunch, and failed.

Thus, prior to me managing to don any celebratory headwear, we resolved to get him to the hospital.

We considered summoning an ambulance, but what would the wait time be on Christmas Day?

A Rapid Decline

When we finally reached the hospital, his state had progressed from peaky to barely responsive. Fellow patients assisted us help him reach a treatment area, where the characteristic scent of institutional meals and air filled the air.

What was distinct, however, was the mood. There were heroic attempts at festive gaiety all around, even with the pervasive clinical and somber atmosphere; tinsel hung from drip stands and dishes of festive dessert sat uneaten on tables next to the beds.

Upbeat nursing staff, who no doubt would far rather have been at home, were bustling about and using that lovely local expression so unique to the area: “duck”.

A Subdued Return Home

After our time at the hospital concluded, we headed home to chilled holiday sides and festive TV programming. We viewed something silly on television, likely a mystery drama, and took part in a more foolish pastime, such as a regionally-themed property trading game.

By then it was quite late, and snowing, and I remember feeling deflated – did we lose the holiday?

Healing and Reflection

While our friend did get better in time, he had actually punctured a lung and later developed deep vein thrombosis. And, although that holiday 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 involves a degree of exaggeration, I couldn’t possibly comment, but its annual retelling has definitely been good for my self-esteem. True to his favorite phrase: “don’t let the truth get in the way of a good story”.