Let's get right down to the real nitty gritty

 Part Two: 

The Covid test came back negative.  I was wheeled into an elevator and taken up to the 4^th floor.  I was left in the hallway while the transporter brought my papers to the nursing desk.  I heard “Americana!  Americana!” as I waited. 

Another freshly painted hall, spotless, gleaming floor…with the usual rolling carts of supplies and a ………….Madonna.  A rather elaborate Madonna, adorned with real beads and a shawl.  Centrally located mid hallway…by the nurses station. It’s something you just get used to in Italy.

In just a few  minutes a young girl came out and took me to my room, not far at all from the nursing station.  A large but very spare room.  No curtains on the one window…but one of those metal shades that rolls up and down outside, common in Europe.  No curtains between the two beds.  No curtains at all which translates into no privacy.  A small crucifix in the middle of the wall above the heads of the beds.  IV stands, but no infusion pumps.  Meal trays next to the beds, but nothing whatsoever on them.  By this I mean no water pitcher, glass, straw, tissues, toothbrush, toothpaste.  No hospital gown or socks.  Nothing.  I would have to stay in what I wore this morning, which, luckily, was just a tee shirt and loose pajama type pants.  I was wearing slip on Sketchers but no socks, so if I wanted to use the bathroom or get up for any reason, I would have to shove my surgically altered feet into my shoes each and every time.  Patients even need to bring their medications from home, they are not dispensed from the hospital pharmacy. Since the room was spacious but spare, every sound was amplified and bounced off the hard surfaces. After a while it hurts the ears. This is national healthcare.  No frills.

(There is a private hospital in Pescara, a 25 minute drive away, which likely has “frills” but there was no time for that nor would I want to impose upon my friend who was already going out of her way to help.)

I got as “comfortable” as I could.  There was a very old lady in the room with me and I had the immediate impression that she was going to be trouble.  “Buonasera, Signora” she said.  I nodded to her and replied in kind.  Perhaps she didn’t hear me because she repeated her greeting at the top of her rather able lungs.  Yeah…she was going to be trouble.

Before anything else, I grabbed my phone…realizing that it was running out of battery power, and texted my husband for soap, cups, socks, a towel, a hairbrush, toothbrush, toothpaste, change of underwear and phone charger. The only thing I did have was a small portable pack of tissues.

Again, quickly and efficiently, two young ladies (student nurses) came in to do vitals, an EKG and set up an IV of saline solution.

The food staff delivered dinner, but nothing for me.  The old started with her questions ad infinitum.  “Why don’t you eat?”  This would be repeated every day, three or more times a day.  “What is your name?  No!  That’s a  month!”  Oy vey.  “Why don’t you eat? Aren’t you hungry?”

The call buttons for the nurses have a three tone descending ring in the hallway.  Something I would come to dread. My roommate used hers with abandon. 

Turned out she was 85 years old, never married, lived alone and she fell and screwed up her entire right side but mostly the shoulder and hip.  She was confined to bed.  Her mind might not be as sharp as it could have been but her mouth worked just fine.

A nurse came in and started antibiotics.  While I am accustomed, obviously, to US hospitals and all the accoutrements that they include, IVs without infusion pumps work just fine.  In fact, the many, many times I had to have medicine infused for RA, those damned pumps often developed some kind of problem, making it necessary to redo the elaborate set up, fiddle with the controls and hope to get it working right again.  Why?  Is it only to add expense?

And clearly, not providing niceties such as a comb, toothbrush, soap…saves money and has nothing to do with good medical care.  Just wish I had known prior to leaving the house.

I was tired, in pain, uncomfortable, hungry, thirsty (I didn’t even get water) and trying to adjust myself in the hard bed with a hard pillow, when I saw a nurse coming toward my room with a Trader Joe’s bag.  Hurray!  Supplies!  I could brush my hair, brush my teeth (with my trusty IV by my side) while wearing socks, and get my phone charged up. 

The night was surreal.  I was overtired and very unhappy.  And trigger happy roommate kept the nurses call button busy all through the night. The good news was that no one ELSE disturbed me…no middle of the night vitals and the hallway lights were off until six a.m. Problem was, I finally fell asleep somewhere around five.  One hour later I was awakened for a blood draw.

Housekeeping came around and did the floors and bathroom.  IVs were kept going all day, bathroom needed to be used about every two hours, shifts changed.  In the early afternoon the young students arrived and they were all so sweet and enthusiastic and they wanted to practice their English on me!  One young lady has a father who lives and works in Australia.  She remarked how she can understand “American” English so much better than “Australian” English.  The other, actually the same girl who originally brought me to the room, stuck her head in just to say, in English…”Hi, guys!”  A young man has a friend in New York and visited there four years ago.  He was lamenting how much money he spent.  Yeah, tell me about it!!

Wednesday was much the same except my pain was diminishing and sometimes I had the IV bottles removed for a while.  So, I asked if I could take a shower.  Well…………you can….but….the shower is broken. !!!!?????  I tried anyway.  The shower, which also had no curtain, had a considerable leak in the middle of the flexible hose.  I could “shower” with the pressure low…but there was no way I could wash my hair.  It helped, at any rate.  Cleanish me, clean underwear, clean socks.

That day my admitting doctor and another older doctor marched in.  The older one gave a cursory “exam” and told me I needed surgery.  Surgery??  I was told I didn’t need surgery.  Now I need surgery. This was the first I heard.

I said I thought the treatment I was getting was sufficient.  With that the older doctor got huffy and raised his voice and said the pain would come back again and again and again.  He turned away from me and marched out of the room.  Well, that didn’t go very well.

When I was admitted I expected to have surgery ASAP.  Then the admitting doctor told me there was a non-invasive treatment…the IV antibiotics.  Then I was told surgery again.  Now?  No, you go home and schedule surgery “if you want.”  OMIGOD…here we go again…if you want.  What if I want your damned medical opinion????

I spoke with my husband…I thought about it.  I was not sure how this was going to be reconciled.

Needless to say, my sleep once again was fitful. 

For a brief period, this one night, we had a third person in the room, another ancient woman, even older than the mouth.  Another victim of a fall.  Tiny little slip of a woman.  Her daughter, it turned out, was a doctor…una dottoressa. Also a smoker…I could smell it and see it by her skin.  At any rate, she only stayed the one night and was moved to another room the next morning.  The good news was that her mere presence kept the mouth quieter for the one night even though sleep eluded me.

Thursday.  Lights on at 6 am.  “Why don’t you eat? Aren’t you hungry?”  My admitting doctor, the snot nose doctor and yet another march in.  This one I managed to catch a glimpse of his name on his jacket.  I knew the name….he was recommended by a dear friend who is now also assistant mayor of this town.  He is also the head of the department but soon to retire. I wondered if our friend had anything to do with his appearance.

He examined me.  He spoke a tiny bit of English.  “You are from New York?”  “Yes, but I live here now.”  He said he would advise that I go home but schedule surgery for the near future.  I agreed.  “Ha!  But she didn’t WANT surgery yesterday!” said Dr. Snot Nose.  I replied, in Italian, “I needed time to think.”  Both my admitting doctor and the head of the department had no problem with that. 

Before he left I asked when I could go home.  Friday.  Tomorrow.  YAY!!!  “O forse sabato” (or maybe Saturday)…..No!!!!  hahaha…just kidding.

Finally, I was given something to eat….a boiled piece of chicken cutlet and overdone (thank goodness, the only way I like them) carrots.  A cup of tea.  Magnificent.  Manna from heaven. Menus for the patients are one more thing not present in "no frills" health care.  You get what you get.  Period.

For the first time, I slept about 4 hours straight.  Tired, relieved and something in my stomach after  5 entire days.  If the mouth called the nurses station, I didn’t hear it. 

Morning came and I was hyped.  I got up, brushed my teeth and hair…packed up my few things…and lo and behold, there was my admitting doctor at only 7 a.m.!  One last check, one last IV antibiotic…he wrote the papers, scheduled surgery…and I was free to go! 

No frills…but I am forewarned now and know what I will need to bring with me next time.  Overall, but for one snotty doctor (like I never encountered snotty doctors in the US?) the care was very good.  Everyone else was attentive, cheerful, kind and most of all, competent.  The building is old, possibly post WWII or soon after in the 50s….but clean.  Some of the misunderstandings I am sure were cultural and due to my language difficulties. Really, I have little to complain about.  And, by the way, the bill is ZERO.