Oggi Molti Idioti *

Warning: Much Ranting Ahead

I was under the impression that Wednesday was the day I could spring my mom out of The Joint. I did some power Googling and found a big sporting goods store just about a 5-10 minute walk from the apartment, where I could pick up some hiking poles for my mom. There was a sales clerk just inside the door, and I asked her if they had "hiking poles" while I mimicked the ski-like arm motions. She looked at me in a judgmental way, like you obviously don't do sports, and she said, "No, we have nothing." I breezed right past her and headed for the hiking department, where I found several brands and different quality grades of hiking poles. I picked out the sturdiest ones they had and headed for the cash register where my friend was ringing things up. I don't know if she understood, but I plunked them down on the counter and said, "THIS is what I wanted." She tried to send me away and now here I am spending 100 euros in her store. She was too busy yacking with her co-worker when she gave me my change to end the transaction properly by acknowledging my patronage, so I loudly said "thank you" as I flew out the door. This set the tone for my day at the hospital.

I finally arrived at my mom's room after visiting hours had ended, so I expected to see her sitting in a chair and ready to go. Nope. She said that even though yesterday an orthopedist said she could be released today, this morning the doctor said she will be staying and undergoing physical therapy, but she could not go anywhere without CRUTCHES (huh?!) and a brace would not do her much good. (Don't know if it was the same or different doctor.) The icing on the cake was that he said he could not obtain crutches, and we were to buy our own set. This is an orthopedic hospital! No crutches? My mom told him that he would have to call me to take care of that and he took down my phone number. (Of course he never called me.)

THAT'S when I blew my top and turned into either the Ugly American or the Pissed-Off Greek or all of the above. I said NO she is NOT doing those things; she is going home today. Several nurses came into the room (perhaps I was loud?) along with an English-speaking female doctor. My mother calmly explained the flip-flop doctor's decision to her, and then I started ranting, hand on hip and waving the hiking poles around: We WILL BE leaving Florence on Friday. She will NOT undergo physical therapy at this facility. I'm paying a FORTUNE to extend our stay in this city. We SACRIFICED our trip to Rome including the PAPAL AUDIENCE. We WILL BE flying to Napoli to get on a cruise leaving on Monday that is already ARRANGED AND PAID FOR. Furthermore, I spent 100 EUROS on hiking poles because the hospital LOST her cane. The doctor NEVER called me to say he wanted her to stay and she needed crutches (which is ridiculous anyway). And every day I come back to the hospital expecting a doctor to evaluate and release her is another 15 EUROS taxi fare each way and another day of my mom's "vacation" WASTED while she lays in a hospital bed, not to mention her MOBILITY DETERIORATING because no one is helping her to get up to move around. The doctor gave me the same song and dance I got from the doctor the other day, that she is not an orthopedist, but a gerontologist. She explained that everyone has to have a vascular ultrasound before being released to rule out a thrombosis (blood clot). I put in one more jab when I pointed out that OF COURSE thrombosis is an issue when you lay in a hospital bed for 5 days. Good grief. I finally shut my mouth before I pointed out that my mom has received NO ACTUAL MEDICAL TREATMENT while in the hospital; she's just laying in a bed. She could do that at the hotel!! Once the doctor figured out that I knew what I was talking about, and she knew I wasn't a happy camper, she said she would put a rush (ha ha ha) on the ultrasound. They would do it that afternoon so that my mom could be discharged tomorrow (Thursday). I left the hospital at 5:30 and still no ultrasound.

Tomorrow I will go to the hospital for the last time at 1:00 pm, the "visiting hour". We WILL BE discharged and arrange payment (they prefer bank transfer). We will leave the hospital and slowly, carefully enjoy a little bit of Firenze together again.

 

OINK OINK OINK OINK OINK

 

* Today Many Idiots

An Intermediate Update on the "Mom Situation"

My mother finally saw an orthopedic doctor after laying in a hospital bed for four days. He said she can leave tomorrow (Wednesday). She asked him about a hip brace and he just ignored her question. Okay.......  The only condition was that she was to contact her surgeon for clearance to continue our vacation (as opposed to just going home now). I know what we are all thinking: How is her surgeon in Florida, five thousand miles and six time zones away, supposed to be able to meaningfully clear her for travel??

So we called Orthopedic Specialists (my T-Mobile international service is a lifesaver) and spoke to his nurse as Dr. Graves was in surgery. She also asked the same question we all just asked, and took my mobile phone number for Dr. Graves to call me back. He never called back, so we'll just assume all is well so she can get the heck out of that institution. Instead of a wheelchair, my mom wants to try a cane. It's more physically challenging, but less of a pain to deal with. (The hospital LOST her cane, so I'll be shopping for assistance devices tomorrow morning.) I actually want her to try trekking poles; they are very helpful for balance (which is a big issue for her), uneven terrain (Firenze is cobblestone hell), and they relieve stress on lower joints. I really like mine, which are, of course, at home.

We will be staying in Firenze until Friday morning. The hotel moved us to their apartment on Piazza della Signoria at a reduced rate due to the circumstances. There is good news and bad news. The good news: It is gorgeous! Two bedrooms, two bathrooms, and a terrace view to die for (see photo). The bad news: No lift. It is a "first floor" apartment, not ground floor, which means we have to climb 33 steps up to the first floor. The steps are a manageable height and split up into segments, but not practical for a hip patient. (What were they thinking? They weren't; it probably never occurred to them.)

We intend to subsequently travel to Napoli on Friday, and then hop on the cruise ship on Monday, Oct. 8th. Or hobble.

God Has a Sense of Humor (or at least whimsy)

Today we were scheduled to take the train from Firenze to Rome, but could not because of my mom's hospitalization. Coincidentally (?) there is a transportation strike in Italy today. It's called a sciopero (pronounced SHO-per-o) and is planned and announced in advance. To me, that seems to lessen the impact of the strike when the public knows in advance and can work around it. What's the point?

I Think This Is Italy's New National Anthem

I am hearing it everywhere. Too much of a good thing.

Lesson Learned

ALWAYS, ALWAYS, ALWAYS buy travel insurance.

My New Adventure

My original plan was to first write a blog post describing what my vacation with my mother will include, and how we were excited about having a wonderful time. For some reason, even though I allowed plenty of time to pack and prepare for three weeks abroad, I still found myself throwing things in the suitcase at the very last minute as our driver to the airport waited in the driveway. It was surreal. I honestly have had recurring dreams (semi-nightmares) for several years about nothing being packed and it's time to leave for the airport. Only this time it was real. I had a packing list and things set aside, of course, but I did not have the luxury of those last-minute packing debates (How many of something do I need? Do I really need to bring this or that?) Truth be told, my life was kind of a disaster at that point in general, so finding myself in that situation was not a complete surprise, just disappointment.... in myself. I needed this vacation to paste myself back together again.

So naturally, I'm starting to blog several days into the vacation. However, two days ago, something unexpected happened to force my attention elsewhere (more on that in a moment.)

The Planned Itinerary:

• 5 nights in Firenze (Florence), Italy, at the Hotel Brunelleschi (my personal favorite)
• 5 nights in Rome at the Hotel Albergo (with a view of the Pantheon!)
• 1 night in Napoli (Naples) at the Starhotels Terminus
• 8-day cruise on MSC Fantasia of Western Mediterranean (tickets were BOGO!)
• 1 night in Napoli at same hotel (my birthday that day) 

Our first full day in Firenze was wonderful. Then something happened:

My mother's new artificial hip popped out of the joint. This is something that hip replacement patients live in fear of. She bent over too far (beyond 90 degrees) to pick up a pill off the floor ("But it was one of the expensive ones," she said) and then BAM! she's on the floor and can't move the leg which is pointing in a strange direction. Mind you, this is at 2:30 AM. So the wonderful folks at the Misericordia di Firenze (which is literally around the corner from the hotel) gave us a free ride to the hospital. The emergency room doctor took x-rays, and in the process of manipulating her, the hip popped back in again without him having to anesthetize and manually move it back in. Still, he said she needed to stay overnight in the hospital for fear that it could pop back out again. He said she would be fitted with a hip brace to keep it in place until we could get home, and that our upcoming sightseeing activities would not be possible. Great...just great. Once in the room, we find she has no telephone to contact me and no TV or reading material to pass the time. Lovely....just lovely. Bear in mind this is occurring on a Friday night. The next morning (Saturday), the nurse told her that an orthopedist would come to evaluate her on MONDAY morning. So she lays there in the hospital bed all weekend.

So when I arrived at "visiting hours" (1:00 to 3:00 pm, strictly kept) on Monday, no doctor had seen her yet. When it was time for me to leave, the nurse had to find an English-speaking person to tell me this; fortunately it happened to be a doctor. I questioned him as to why a doctor had not seen her since FRIDAY, for pete's sake. I was miffed at this point. He gave me a song and dance about how there were other patients with more severe injuries, so the orthopedists were busy with these cases, and even though he himself was a doctor, he could not properly prescribe the best course of treatment because this was not his specialty. Yadda yadda yadda. (I had already Googled it and confirmed that the protocol for a dislocated hip prosthesis is the brace, rest, and physical therapy.) He said he would put in a doctor request for us, and if this person did not speak English, then he would be there to translate. Then he said that she should be evaluated by WEDNESDAY. I gave him my look of death and said she BETTER BE seen by then, that this is our "vacation," and everything is on hold until the doctor comes. It was all I could do to not be the Ugly American. I SOOO wanted to tell him that even though (or because) we pay a fortune for medical care in the U.S., when we need a doctor, we can see a doctor IMMEDIATELY, ANY day of the week. But I took the high road and kept my mouth shut. The whole taxi ride home (it costs me 15 euros each way), I wondered if we were receiving crappy treatment because we were American tourists or if everyone in Italy receives crappy treatment. When I explained the delay and excuses to the man at my hotel, he said, "Yes, that's Italy." Question answered.

The hotel staff have been extremely kind, helpful, and gracious regarding this situation. I notified them that I cancelled our trip to Rome (including my PAPAL AUDIENCE TICKETS for Wednesday) and wished to extend our stay in Firenze probably to Friday. I apologized for the last-minute nature of the change in plans, and offered to move to a different room if this one had been booked for the day we originally planned to leave. So now there's a new wrinkle: The hotel is booked very tightly this week, and the man I am working with is working with the manager to keep me here. However, I need to have our bags packed by 11:00 am Tuesday morning in the event that my room will change (they will move them for me), but they're not sure yet, still juggling. There is also the possibility that they will have to move me to an APARTMENT they keep in the Piazza della Signoria, but they are dedicated to finding a solution. Good grief. I think I'm going to go to mass early tomorrow morning to pray for strength.

My mom and I are aiming for the following itinerary for the remainder of our vacation:

• Mom gets the hip brace this week and we rent or buy a wheelchair to keep her walking to an absolute minimum.
• We stay in Firenze until Friday.
• Fly (with wheelchair service) to Napoli on Friday.
• Take the cruise as planned Oct 8-15.

We'll see. This is Italy, after all....

Getting Back In Touch

Irene's travel blog has been dusted off and resurrected!

I regret not keeping this blog up to date. Since last year's big trip, I have travelled very little, but my adventures were meaningful nonetheless.

Last June, my mother and I drove to Wildwood, Florida to visit my father's grave for the first time since his burial. The Greenwood Cemetery is a very old, peaceful resting place in rural Sumter County in central Florida.

My father's family settled in Wildwood when he was a child in the 1930s. They were the token immigrant family in this small town, but they were well-liked by their neighbors. The patriarch, Basil, ran a restaurant and rooming house. Basil's wife, Harritamany, who only spoke Greek, was a fastidious (likely OCD) housekeeper who ran a tight ship. She died an early death in 1939 at the age of 36. She had some kind of heart condition, but many in the family still joke that she worked herself to death, scrubbing the wooden floors of their tiny house until it had splinters. It was also said that she died of a broken heart......

Decades ago, Wildwood was a busy railroad hub, and the proximity of the family's house to the railroad tracks was a major influence in their lives. In fact, Uncle Mike became a railroad engineer in his adult life because of his love for trains. Tragically, their brother Nick, who sold sandwiches at the railroad as a mere child, was violently struck by a train and died at the age of six. As family members have told the story, my grandfather took a large straw basket and gathered up the pieces of his young son that were scattered around the tracks. What a strong man. This was only two months after the death from natural causes of their two-year-old child, Mary.

Eighty years later, my father was the final sibling of seven to pass. He was his father's "favored child." Yes, Basil was strong and wise.