The Sprayberries

The Good News is I Have NO Brain Tumours!
[jordanna]

Dont we all feel better now. There will apparently be no punctuation in this blog because this s a retarded keyboard, where the markings on the keys only occasionally match what comes out. Moving on...

Shortly after Ty posted that I was sick he went on a mission to figure out what the doctor situation was. I suggested the US embassy as a source of information, but he found a very helpful pharmacist and a couple gregarious doctors (who could not help us). As is turns out, in emergency situations, Italian social health care extends to everyone. You can always go to the emergency room for free. The night before, the receptionist at our hostel had suggested we go to Policlinico, the Largest Hospital in the Capital City. She mentioned that going for her foot took three hours. We were warned. Or so we thought. There was no way we could have EVER been prepared.

Chapter one... Triage. Thurday afternoon, 3 pm we arrive at the emergency room. By this I mean one small waiting room with maybe 15 small wooden chairs down each side and a packed hallway. Next to the waiting room there is a triage room. We were admitted to triage within 10 minutes, which got me thinking this wasn't going to be so bad. We communicated that I had had bladder spasms for 10 days, and within the past 24 hours nausea, chest tingling and dizziness had been added, making me think that the bladder infection was getting bad. Enter the point where I should have lied. When you know you have a bladder infection and a foreign health professional asks you if you have burning urination, YOU SAY YES! I am not in the habit of lying, especially not to doctors. I answered, honestly, that I had stinging after urination but not any bad burning during. At this point they asked me to pee on a stick and sent Ty to a waiting area. This means they wrapped the base of what looked like an elaborate litmus stick in gauze and said, bring this back when you have peed on it. After a separate adventure involving finding said bathroom, I bring it back to the triage room, dripping urine down the halls as I go. A different nurse takes it from me and puts it somewhere. I am banished to the waiting area. So I think that they will read the test, decide whether or not to give me anitbiotics and send me packing. NOT SO. Three and half hours later we get somebody to tell us what is going on. People are seen on a level of need basis. With a triage staff of four, and my demise not being imminently near, we were at the bottom of the list. At a little over four hours we thought about leaving, but decided to stick it out. I fell asleep upright in the chairs. At five hours, they called my name (Finally! We will see a doctor and go!)

Chapter 2... The First Doctor We were escorted to a room that almost defies description, at which point Ty was shunted off to a family waiting area. Double doors at each end of a large rectangular room, with three small rooms down each side. The center was occupied by two rows, back to back, of hospital beds packed in like sardines filled with groaning old people. I never saw the inside of the middle ones, but the first corner room I went into was an examination room. I lay down on the bed, and a nurse comes over to me and asks me what my symptoms are. She asked how long is the bladder pain, I say ten days. She asked if the chest sensation and shortness of breath are new. Enter MAJOR MISCOMMUNICATION I say yes, thinking she means new for this illness. She translates my symptoms for the doctor, while a large old bald man comes over, swabs my wrists and anknles with a wet washcloth, yanks up my shirt and bra and does the same to my chest. He turns around and comes back with a machine the size of an old timer typewriter with 8 dangling blue balls with metal hats sticking out of it. He clamps metal paddles to my wrists and ankles, then suctions ALL 8 balls to my chest. The machine starts to spit out an EKG, at which point he rips everything off and a pull my shirst back down. He then puts an IV lock into my wrist (a primary IV shunt straight into the vein that allows blood to be withdrawn and medicine to be injected) and pulls about 4 vials of blood. The nice nurse then leads me to another corner room, which has 8 more wooden chairs, and three reclining chairs. After who knows how long, she comes back and tells me that lab had a problem with my blood, could they please take more. I follow nice nurse back, and a different guy grabs my wrist, stuffs a syringe into the portal and starts tugging away violently trying to fill it with blood. After about 120 seconds of struggle he succeeds. I then ask the nurse if the results of my urine test are in, because I think I have a bladder infection. She stares at me as though I have four heads. Apparently triage man threw it in the trash. She brinds me a new stick, and a glove! Which I go to the bathroom to pee on. At this point it is amazing I have pee left, as I only brought a half liter of water with me. I pee on the stick and give it back to her. Ty comes in a bit later, having snuck past the gaurds. He asks if I want anything. I haven't wanted anything to do with food since breakfast that morning, but I ask for a drink. He finds a cart and eats a sandwich, then brings me a powerade. This bottle becomes my constant companion. I can pull a plastic lid off with my hands, then open and shut the nozzle with my teeth, never toucing the part I drink from. Later I will explain why this is necessary. Ty tells me its eleven thirty, and that weve been here over 8 hours. Shortly after this the nurse comes to fetch me and take me to a new doctor. The new doctor turns out to be a neurologist who proceeds to poke me with pins, and stroke different parts of my body and finally determines that my neurological exam is normal. She then informes me that i must stay over night to get an MRI the next morning.

Chapter 3...Overnight with a Poo-Splattered Bathroom

We decided Ty should go home for the night but before he left he made me a bed of two of the chairs in the waiting room (staying overnight did not include a bed, food, or water). I filled my water bottle and went to the bathroom again. None of the bathrooms in Italian hospitals have toilet seats, soap, or janitors. There was blood on the sink and the floor, and by the time i went back in the middle of the night there was poo on the toilet and the floor. This is why i was SO EXCITED that i could use my water bottle without touching it. I slept through the night, and Ty came back to check on me at 0730. The nice nurse had said we should be out of there by noon on Friday. Ty made plans to come back at eleven and left again to check out of our hostel. When he came back at 1100 i still hadnt been seen, and about an hour later he left to find out what was going on. He found a nurse who spoke french and told her that there had been a miscommunication and because i dont speak italian i had been unable to communicate well that i had a bladder infection. she went off to talk to the doctors then came to report that after we got the MRI she would speak with the doctors with us and we could get a prescription for antibiotics.

Chapter 4...The MRI

The MRI doctor spoke very good english. They examined my brain and my spine and the doctor said the tests looked fine and i was ok.

Chapter 5... Endgame

Ty found the french speaking nurse when we got back to the waiting area. She said they were waiting for test results, i wasnt dying, there was a slight problem with my bladder and we would be out of there with our prescription in one to two hours. Ty left to check into our new hotel and got back at just about the two hour mark. Shortly after a nurse delivered a new patient to the waiting area. I stopped the nurse and explained that i was waiting to leave. She spoke no english but the new patient did and kindly translated. The nurse returned shortly and through the new patient told me that my MRI results would not be in till tomorrow and i needed to stay overnight. At this point i started to cry and told her i had already been here 26 hours. she brought me to see the doctor.

The doctor spoke no english either but had an english speaking assistant. the assistant was very kind as i explained to him that i have a bladder infection (repeated all my symptoms again) and had been kept in the hospital with no medication or food for over a day. he spoke with the doctor and then came back and asked if i had an MRI. i said yes, and he asked why. i told him i didnt know but i could NOT STAY IN THE HOSPITAL ANOTHER NIGHT. he explained this to the doctor, kicked Ty out, and then left himself. The doctor angrily handed me a printout to sign. Before signing i asked if there was a prescription for antibiotics in there. She said no and asked me if i had bladder pain. I said Yes. She stomped out and came back with a prescription. I signed all her paperwork and we fled.

General notes... With few exceptions the health care personnel were incredibly kind and friendly. They genuinely wanted to help, and the language barrier was our major hurdle. I have always been an advocate of social healthcare, but this experience has made me realize there are pros and CONS. In the largest hospital in the country's capital city this hospital had the feel of an African bush hospital. They were ridiculously understaffed and striving to maintain any level of sanity. It was the dirtiest hospital I have ever been in. The room I spent 21 hours waiting in smelled, literally, like rot (I have been in a room with gangrene and I am not, for once, exaggerating). If I had money, I would endow it to that hospital. They are trying so hard.

PS- now i have enough Cipro to kill a horse and feel much better.