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Travel Log: What Happens If You Get Sick or Hurt When Vacationing in Italy?
Part 2 of 3: Live Nude Girls! At the Hospital?
Continued from page 1
Three days after the initial injury, my leg from below the knee to my toes had turned blue and ice cold. The dotoressa, who is one of the best doctors I know, forced me to go to the ambulance post where she was on the night shift. "You have the leg of a dead person," said another one of her colleagues. I was off to the emergency room again, only this time I would be taken by ambulance. My head was spinning at the thought of getting treated in another country, even if Ischia is like a second home to me. But a gentle EMT named Marcello, who thought I was cute and told me so, made the ride more tolerable.
When we arrived, I saw my cousin Fausto Di Costanzo and his girlfriend Lea Iacono sitting on the chairs outside the emergency room. Fausto's father Gigino and my other cousins Gavinca and Giusi Scordo had stayed with me; Fausto didn't have to come, too - and he especially didn't have to drag his poor girlfriend with him. But that's just a testament to the loving, thoughtful young man Fausto has grown into. It was as though I had an entourage - and I was more than fine with that!
After an X-ray showed I did not have any broken bones and an ultrasound showed I did not have any clots or aneurysms, I was sent upstairs for the night. My cousin Gavinca, the dotoressa's daughter, was permitted to stay with me because she herself is studying to be a doctor.
First, the nurses had to check my heart with a monitor that looked ancient. They put these large suction cups on my bare breasts and attached these strange clamps to my ankles and wrists. The suction cups kept popping off and Ciccio and Gavinca had to repeatedly push them back on. I don't even think Heidi Fleiss' boobs ever saw so much action. Meanwhile, five to six people share one hospital room. No one has curtains -- no one! Modesty goes out the window, literally.
The next morning, my foot had warmed up considerably, and I was pricked with numerous needles and sent off to another orthopedist. This one decided that my knee needed to be drained because blood and water had accumulated and was cutting off my circulation despite the medication. We were in a room full of men, some of whom were doctors, some of whom were patients. Again, there were no curtains. When it was time to put a cast on my leg from my thigh to my ankle - a necessity if I was going to be able to move through the airport at all - the doctor told me in his best English, "Take-a you pants down now." Again, I was in my underwear with an audience. I hope I didn't scare anyone.
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