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This individual has long been known as a larger than life personality. Witty, unsentimental – and never one to refuse to a further glass. At family parties, he is the person chatting about the most recent controversy to catch up with a member of parliament, or amusing us with accounts of the shameless infidelity of various Sheffield Wednesday players for forty years.

It was common for us to pass the holiday morning 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 fell down the stairs, whisky in one hand, suitcase in the other, and sustained broken ribs. He was treated at the hospital and advised against air travel. So, here he was back with us, doing his best to manage, but looking increasingly peaky.

The Day Progressed

The hours went by, however, the humorous tales were absent in their typical fashion. He maintained that he felt alright but he didn’t look it. He tried to make it upstairs for a nap but was unable to; he tried, cautiously, to eat Christmas lunch, and did not manage.

Therefore, before I could even don any celebratory headwear, my mum and I decided to drive him to the emergency room.

We thought about calling an ambulance, but how much of a delay would there be on Christmas Day?

A Worrying Turn

When we finally reached the hospital, he had moved from being peaky to barely responsive. Other outpatients helped us guide him to a ward, where the generic smell of hospital food and wind permeated the space.

What was distinct, however, was the mood. One could see valiant efforts at festive gaiety everywhere you looked, notwithstanding the fundamental sterile and miserable mood; decorations dangled from IV poles and portions of holiday pudding went cold on bedside tables.

Upbeat nursing staff, who undoubtedly would have preferred to be at home, were bustling about and using that great term of endearment so unique to the area: “duck”.

A Subdued Return Home

Once the permitted time ended, we made our way home to chilled holiday sides and festive TV programming. We saw a lighthearted program on television, likely a mystery drama, and took part in a more foolish pastime, such as a local version of the board game.

It was already late, and it had begun to snow, and I remember feeling deflated – was Christmas effectively over for us?

Healing and Reflection

Even though he ultimately healed, he had actually punctured a lung and subsequently contracted deep vein thrombosis. And, although that holiday does not rank among my favorites, it has become part of family legend as “the Christmas I saved a life”.

How factual that statement is, or involves a degree of exaggeration, I am not in a position to judge, but hearing it told each year has done no damage to my pride. In keeping with our friend’s motto: “don’t let the truth get in the way of a good story”.