A day in the ER

Certain that my clavicle is broken, we head into the ER for confirmation.

We arrive at the emergency room. It is paid parking, we get a ticket and head in. (haha, yes, this is foreshadowing – there is no way to pay at the exit when it is finally time to leave – we have a long line of cars behind us and they are honking. Someone finally comes on the speaker – you must come back and pay. It really wasn’t clear where.. finally paid up – we can leave. But, this is much, much later in the day!)

They have a triage area. I take a number and am called in quickly. Maybe this won’t take as long as I think?? He speaks excellent English, I show him my Italian explanation anyways, so nothing is missed. He gives me a hospital bracelet and then sends me to the waiting room. He says you will either see your number on the screen or someone will call your name or you will hear the doctor call you over the loudspeaker.

We wait – we are bummed that they do not separate sick people from injured people. We sit in the vicinity of someone who clearly has a dreadful cold. Oi Vey. There are not many people in the room. 15ish. As the day progresses, there are over 125 people in the waiting area. I marvel that people keep showing up but no one actually leaves, yep, the cold guy is still here – also some poor guy who was bleeding profusely from his head when we arrived was also still there. Eight hours to the dot we are finally ready to leave. Confirming what we knew when we arrived. It is broken. But does not require surgery which I am supremely grateful for. We would have had some decisions to make!

And yes, even though I have a lovely number on my wrist and a beautiful computer system that can alert me when it is my turn, I have to strain every time a name is shouted, or summoned over the loudspeaker. I brought some headphones and entertainment, but don’t dare use them. We also have not eaten all day, never knowing when it would be my turn. This is what transpired during the eight hours:

• triage
• Doctor assessment. X-rays are ordered.
• Xrays: The X-ray technician pointed to my clavicle – this one, this is your problem,
• called to another doctor who read the X-ray. broken clavicle. No surgery. Sling for 30 days.
• another doctor helped me put a sling on – instructed me to get another x-ray when I got home. I told him that would be six more weeks. He tells me that is way too long, I need to go and get an x-ray in ten days. Can I make an appointment pretty please? No, since you are not an Italian citizen you must go to an emergency room. Make sure it is an orthopedic hospital.
• I see the first doctor again, who gives me written English instructions. I tell him I am surprised he is still here; he says he works 12-hour shifts. My instructions say to take painkillers. I ask for a prescription for painkillers. He writes me a prescription. Jim and I think we have heard this term before on Doc Martin. Yep, extra-strength Tylenol. I’m just going to take his prescription-strength ibuprofen.
• we paid and were issued a receipt
• we were sent to radiology to pick up a copy of my x-rays – so that when I am seen again, they can assess if I am healing properly.

Meanwhile, Lisa and Ty have had a chilly but fun day in Venice. We all arrive home about the same time. Dinner is cobbled together, it turns out to be pretty good. Jim made a salad that was a masterpiece – salami, cheese, olives, peppers, cucumbers, onions, mixed lettuces – all meticulously diced. Unfortunately the salt shaker failed and the entire contents spill onto the salad. He tries to save it, but to no avail.

We’re up and at em early the next morning – packed up and dropping off Lisa and Ty at the train station they are headed to Rome for their final day. There is no parking in front of the station, so we put on our hazard lights, it’s the Italian way. If you have your flashers on, suddenly it is okay to park somewhere. We bid some hasty farewells and off they go.

After a great final day in Rome, Lisa and Ty board the Leonardo Express train to head to the airport. At departure time a strike is announced. The whole train now has to scramble to get to the airport. They shared a cab with a nice Swedish couple; the girls chatting the whole way. They had allotted plenty of time, so it turned out to be a good story instead of a missed flight.

Jim and I head to Ancona.

paleremo presto