We scoped out the emergency room 23 minutes away the day before. There was an automatic gate arm at the entrance—maybe you have to get a ticket to enter? We found a (free! and large!) parking lot nearby. Perfect.
The next morning, we arrived nice and early. I was armed with my note explaining that I needed a follow-up X-ray. Joy! The gate barrier was open this morning, so we drove in—thankfully, as it was quite a way into the compound. There was a parking lot by the emergency room. We parked and headed in. It was very quiet. I rang the bell.
A nurse appeared. I greeted her and handed over my note. She didn’t speak English. I said I spoke a little Italian; she said she would speak slowly. Haha—she then gave me directions to Roveto at machine-gun speed. It was about a 45-minute drive. She even printed off a Google map for me. So nice! And off we went.
Now we were concerned about the time—should we just skip this altogether? I was feeling pretty good, a little silly for going in at this point, and now we were late. We’d never get seen! Still, we decided to go anyway, knowing we could always abandon the mission and try again tomorrow.
Back in Trentino province, we arrived to find the parking garage FULL. We leaned toward abandonment. But on the third level? Not a single car. Haha—all jammed onto the other two levels. We parked and took the elevator up.
Inside the emergency room, I looked for the kiosk to assign me a triage number. Hmm. Nothing. I did see a monitor—so I knew they had a system like in Mestre. As we were looking around, a door popped open. A man waved me in. Ah! The triage assistant. He took all my information, gave me a bracelet, and sent me to the waiting room. I cracked open my book, ready for a long wait—my assigned “white” status probably meant “not urgent.”
Surprisingly, within an hour, a loud “bong” sounded. My number popped up on the screen along with “Room 2,” and an automatic door swung open. Once inside the triage waiting room, there were no humans to talk to. Every time that door opened, people would try to sneak through (looking for loved ones? asking questions?), only to be shooed back out.
I found Room 2. Two lovely staff members were inside, speaking pretty good English. One explained that I’d be sent for an X-ray and then to an orthopedic doctor. Not sure if the doctor was in the same building, I texted Jim. An orderly wheeled me off to X-ray.
I waited in the hallway. Suddenly, someone was parked right behind me. I had no idea until I heard a throat clear—startled, I used my phone camera to see behind me. Haha! A man was practically touching my chair. He was having none of this waiting business—shouting and then shouting again. Finally, a nurse came out and told him to be patient. Then she wheeled him in! Haha. Definitely a case of the squeaky wheel.
She was also SO nice. I told her my husband usually helps me dress, so she would have to assist me. She reassured me it wasn’t necessary—this was a very focused X-ray. Two quick shots, and the orderly wheeled me straight to the orthopedic doctor, who was already waiting for me.
He showed me my X-ray. My broken bone wasn’t lining up—it was lying on top of the other. He said it was dislocated. They removed my sling and put me in an awful contraption. I was instructed to wear it for four weeks, no removal—not even for showers! What?? Ugh!! At least I didn’t have to wear the sling with it.
I tried to find an image of the brace, but no luck. It’s a padded collar that wraps around and under each shoulder, lacing up in the back. At least all that padding makes it very uncomfortable to sleep in as well.
Once they had affixed the brace, I was sent back for another X-ray to check alignment. It was good. I was told to return in 7–10 days for more X-rays. “Where will you be then?” they asked. “Cinque Terre.” “Ah, Liguria. Just find another orthopedic hospital.”
Back to the triage area for more waiting. By now, people were pouring in—some sick, some injured. I was grateful we had arrived early. Eventually, I was called back to Room 2 for final instructions and payment details. “Did you get a copy of your X-ray?” they asked. No, I hadn’t. “Wait in the triage area; we’ll bring it to you, then you can pay.”
We waited over an hour. We started to think we’d been forgotten—there was absolutely no one to ask. The doctor hadn’t even wanted to see my previous X-ray, so we decided to pay and leave. The whole visit had only taken a little over four hours! Hope this decision does not haunt us.
This was a much better experience, though I felt a niggling guilt about leaving without my X-ray. I’ll never know if someone later wandered through the waiting room looking for me.
The brace irritated my injury all over again (remember my ridiculously low pain tolerance?). The rest of the day was no treat for either of us. We drove back to Lake Garda via Vicenza and Verona. By dinnertime, the irritation had finally calmed down. We had a lovely meal and headed home.
Not having a sling is a little dangerous—I keep using my arm in ways I shouldn’t, forgetting I’m not supposed to. I’m really happy to have this adjustment period before Sophie gets here. I’ll have it all figured out and feel great by then. I’m sure of it. (Jim says this is a pipe dream)
In the end, I am glad that I decided to get the check-up. I’m sure there are serious repercussions to an incorrectly healed bone. So, lucky you, you will get to hear all about Italian hospitals in Liguria when the time comes.
paleremo presto