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This individual has long been known as a truly outsized personality. Witty, unsentimental – and hardly ever declining to a further glass. At family parties, he’s the one discussing the latest scandal to involve a regional politician, or amusing us with accounts of the outrageous philandering of different footballers from Sheffield Wednesday during the last four decades.

We would often spend Christmas morning with him and his family, then departing for our own celebrations. But, one Christmas, about 10 years ago, when he was scheduled to meet family abroad, he fell down the stairs, holding a drink in one hand, a suitcase gripped in the other, and broke his ribs. He was treated at the hospital and instructed him to avoid flying. So, here he was back with us, trying to cope, but seeming progressively worse.

As Time Passed

The morning rolled on but the anecdotes weren’t flowing in their typical fashion. He insisted he was fine but he didn’t look it. He tried to make it upstairs for a nap but was unable to; he tried, carefully, to eat Christmas lunch, and failed.

So, before I’d so much as don any celebratory headwear, my mother and I made the choice to drive him to the emergency room.

We considered summoning an ambulance, but how much of a delay would there be on Christmas Day?

A Deteriorating Condition

Upon our arrival, his state had progressed from peaky to barely responsive. Other outpatients helped us guide him to a ward, where the distinctive odor of institutional meals and air permeated the space.

What was distinct, however, was the mood. People were making brave attempts at Christmas spirit everywhere you looked, notwithstanding the fundamental sterile and miserable mood; tinsel hung from drip stands and bowls of Christmas pudding congealed on bedside tables.

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

A Subdued Return Home

Once the permitted time ended, we headed home to lukewarm condiments and holiday television. We viewed something silly on television, perhaps a detective story, and engaged in an even sillier game, such as a regionally-themed property trading game.

It was already late, and snowing, and I remember feeling deflated – did we lose the holiday?

Recovery and Retrospection

While our friend did get better in time, he had truly experienced a lung puncture and later developed DVT. And, although that holiday does not rank among my favorites, it has gone down in family lore as “the Christmas I saved a life”.

If that is completely accurate, or involves a degree of exaggeration, I am not in a position to judge, but its annual retelling 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”.