The Road to Recovery

All roads must have a start. I suppose this one started sometime in February, 2998, when I broke a couple of ribs. I have had broken ribs before. No big thing, just a few months of pain and everything is alright, and there is not a lot that doctors can do about it.

So I went on my merry way to Amsterdam, Chicago, San Francisco, Chicago, Amsterdam, Israel, Cologne, Palermo, Munich, Frankfurt, Lamperthiem, Viernhiem, Munich, home. That was just to cover the two months of pain.

But the pain lingered a bit, and I felt things moving around, so when I got back to Amsterdam, I discovered that when I breathed, my left lung bulged out of my rib cage. This seemed like something to get help for.

Of course I called my good friend Dr. Gasperi Marinello here, and he took me to the hospital, where I got x rays, and then told me to go the next morning to Ospedialiera Il V Cervello the next morning, emergency room.

The folks at the emergency room were not sure I needed to be there, but the triage nurse did code me as green. Red would mean take care of now of they will die now. Yellow would mean take care of soon (after the reds) as they may die soon. Green means that I could be taken care of after the coffee break. White would have meant that I had no reason to be wasting their time, and as a penalty for going to the emergency room just to get a free band aid or aspirin, I would be charged 25 Euros.

With the small cups of coffee folks drink around here, I was able to be seen by a doctor in about fifteen minutes. I think that is less time than it takes to get a copy made of your health insurance card in most US emergency rooms. The medical staff checked me out, and sent me up to thoracic surgery for a consult. That is what Gasperi had expected.

I was met by Dr. Sergio Playa, who indeed speaks English. He had never seen anything like my problem, so he went to get the chief surgeon, who is a few years younger than I am. Dr. Regio had only seen it once before. He called the rest of the staff in to show them this wonderful ballooning chest. When caposalla (head nurse - administrator) Sgr. Randazzo came in, he said: 'Do you speak English?' When I told him that I did, he frowned and said 'I don't'. Just what I needed, a man with a warped sense of humor almost as bad as mine.

They upgraded me to yellow, arranged to have me admitted to their care, and set up a CAT scan (TAC in Italian), some blood tests, and on and on.

Dr. Regio asked that I wait until the end of the summer for the surgery, as there would be less chance of infection during less hot weather. He also wanted me to lose some weight. I met with him on September 1st, and we scheduled my admission for surgery on September 8th, and he told me I would be kept in hospital until such time as I was able to care for myself at home.

Bright and early on Monday morning, my friend Angelo came to Sciacca, picked me up, and took me to the hospital, staying with me until I was settled in. The team decided that I should have the surgery on Wednesday morning, so I had a day and a half of liesure. I did get some more tests, and met with the anesthesiologist who would be caring for me.

My room had four beds, and they were all filled when I got there. Two of the occupants were released during the morning, and I and another man were given our beds. They were busy. They had a lot to do. The staff took time to answer our questions and calm our nerves.

When lunch came, it was not delicious, but the father of one of my room mates came in with a large dish of pasta al forno, and he made sure I had some. He kept trying to give me more of his wife's wonderful cooking during my stay, however I tried to maintain Dr. Regio's diet for me.

On Wednesday afternoon, I was trundled off to surgery, where Dr. Regio spent two hours getting my ribs where they belonged, tieing up a new netting with silk thread, and closing me up. He found that not only were my lungs coming through the hole in the rib cage, but also part of my diaphram and my spleen. Good fun.

From surgery, I was taken to reanimation, which is sort of like an intensive care unit. They wanted to bring me around slowly to ease any pressure on my heart, and I ended up staying in ranimation for two days. Then it was back up to the ward, where judicious use of morphine and other medicines kept me pretty much free of pain, and helped me begin the healing process. I did have some problems with low blood oxygen levels, constipation, and a low grade fever, but all were satisfactorily taken care of.

Because of my snoring, Dr. Regio arranged a consult with a cardialogist, and we agreed (even my room mates ) that I probably have sleep apnea, and while there is a machine I could wear at night to quiet me down, probably more important is that I lose weight, which I will try to do. We will meet again in six months to look at progress.

Finally, on Saturday, September 20th, Angelo came and got me and took me home. Paolo and Ignatzia fed me (too well), made Angelo feel at home with them, Dr. Marinello stopped by and made arrangements for me to have oxygen in my bed room if I needed it, and two American friends of friends arrived to begin their week stay in the apartment next to mine. They helped pick up the oxygen with me.

So that is the dull story. There are a lot of emotional components to what went on, and those will be covered in the next posts, including my views of The Italian Health Care System, Hospital Parrots, Il Doctore, Davida, Gieuseppe, my reading list, help from my friends, and whatever else I think of.

I do want to thank everyone at the hospital for the excellent care I revieced.