How I learned Italian medical terms...or .. More fun and games with the Italian medical system AGAIN!

One of my favorite lions in Venice, on  the Scuola Grande di San Marco, has nothing to do with the contents of my blog today, but since he graces the front of our wonderful hospital, I thought I ought to use it. I am writing about something medically related, after all.

In a recent blog, I wrote about having to make several trips to the hospital on the Lido, and that my orthopedic surgeon there was retiring at the end of June.  Since then, I've had to have a series of injections in my other knee. As there is no one replacing my dear Dott. F at Lido, I had to see a different doctor at the Giustinian building in Dorsoduro.  If you are a long-time follower of my blog, you may recall one of my wonderful adventures being lost in the basement of the Giustinian building. I have avoided this particular building ever since!  Unfortunately, I had no choice this time, so back to Giustinian I went.

The first injection went off without a hitch. I felt a little better about having to go to Giustinian.  The second visit was a complete bust. I went at my appointed time, sat in the waiting room, and waited, and waited, and waited. Finally I tracked down a nurse. She looked at my appointment papers, motioned for me to sit, and ran off. When she returned, she asked me to follow her. Down a maze of halls we went, I had no idea what was going on. We finally got to an office where another woman was behind the desk. She looked up at me and said " We called you but you never answered. The doctor (Dott. D.) isn't here today."  We went back and forth, it turns out she called but never left a message. She wanted to know why I didn't pick up the phone. I was busy at the time, I told her. I wanted to know why she didn't leave a message.  Her response?  "No one here in Venice ever listens to voice mail, so we don't bother doing it."  Seriously.  Bottom line, we had to reschedule the visit.

The second injection- when it actually happened- also went smoothly. While I was there, I asked the doctor to take a look at my hand, which had a lump at one of the joints on my fingers.  I asked him if there was something I could do for the arthritis in my hand, which seemed to be getting worse lately.  Dott. D. took one look and said, "Signora, this isn't arthritis. You have a tumor. " Next he asked, "You are American, yes? "  Yes.  He instructed  me to stay on the examining  table. He went  to his desk, did something on the computer and  told me to come have a look.  I thought he was going to show me information about this tumor, maybe some photos so I could have a better understanding of what it was.  Instead, he had a document displayed on his screen, written in English and asked me to translate it for him.

I wanted to laugh out loud.  He's asked me to translate a Letter of Recognition, sent to him by the US Army in recognition of his service in Afghanistan assisting an American medical team. It was filled with medical terms. I study Italian,  I'm  at  upper Intermediate level but  I'm certainly no translator. Oh, what the heck, I  took a crack at it.  As I translated line by line from English to Italian, he typed my words on the computer. Every once in awhile he'd look up and say "Hmmm.. I don't like this word here. Do you have another instead of that ?"  I got out my phone which has a dictionary on it and looked up the word.  I'd give him a choice of one or two synonyms and he'd choose the one he liked, and off we'd go again until we got to the end of the letter.  Dott D.  was happy with the result, and I'd had one more weird medical experience to write about.

But we're not done yet. I asked him about Afghanistan. He said it was the worst 3 months he'd ever spent in his life. He was doing surgery on casualties there along with an American team of doctors.  Next, he got on the phone and scheduled an appointment for me to have this tumor removed. He said he had connections at Mestre and could get me in right away, but he couldn't do that at the hospital in Venice, so I should go to Mestre.  I said, "I hate going to Mestre. " He said, "Go to Mestre, we'll do it there." I think my translating got me a little connection.  He wrote out the appointment and off I went. Thanks, Dott. D.

Today was my apppointment at Mestre.  Honestly, I hate to go to Mestre. I had to take a boat to Piazzale Roma, then the 24 H bus to the new hospital out there. I was thankful to actually have arrived at the right place. Anything else that might happen would be gravy. The only other time I'd been to that hospital was in an ambulance through the emergency entrance, so I was totally unfamiliar with what the rest of the place looks like. This hospital is enormous!  After much hunting and pecking my way through the place, I located a secretary who took a look at the letter Dott. D. had given me and pointed me to an office.

Trying my hardest to remain optimistic, I just had a sinking feeling that the day was going to turn south. I waited my turn in the waiting room.   When my name was called, I was surprised to discover that my doctor was NOT the doctor in the room with me.  I fully expected Dott.D. had scheduled the appointment on a day he was working at that hospital. Surprise, surprise.  This new doctor took a look at my letter, looked up at me and said, "Dott D.  Of course."  That should have tipped me off right there.  He asked for the x-rays.  I told him Dott D. hadn't send me for any x-rays.  He reached for my hand, took a closer look, then looked up and said, "No, I'm not cutting without x-rays".  Then he asks, "Why are you here? Why didn't you just go to the hospital in Venice? "  Hmmm. "Well, Dott. D sent me here."
He responds, " Mestrini come here. Venetians stay in Venice.  Doesn't make sense for you to come here.  You can come back here if you want, but I think you should just go to Venice for the x-rays and see the surgeon there."

Coming out of the hospital I discovered there is a train that goes  right to the Venice Santa Lucia station. You could call that the fun part of my day. I bought a ticket for 1.25 Euro ( had to use my credit card since the ticket machine wouldn't take cash), hopped on the train, and got back to Santa Lucia in under 20 minutes. Sweet.  Since I'm not going back to the Mestre hospital I won't be using this handy route, but it seemed like something I ought to know about.

The train ride gave me a little time to ponder my situation. Makes a lot of sense to have x-rays. But my Dottore D. didn't need them. No, he'd been to Afghanistan. He can probably do heart surgery without x-rays.

Tomorrow I am making the x-ray appointment. In Venice. Even if I get sent back to Dott. D for the actual surgery, I'll feel a little more at ease I have them.  You never know,  someone might even look at them.

And why is it some of my best adventures involve the Italian medical system?  I'd like an answer to that.

After Fate Bene Fratelli- Report from home

I've been home from the rehabilitation center for almost 3 weeks now.  I can tell you it has been a pretty scary time. While I have been more than delighted to be in my own environment, it isn't easy to handle the pain and  frustration of recuperating from knee replacement surgery sans the comfort of doctors and nurses close at hand.  Fate Bene Fratelli spoiled me in that regard.

Mike has been fabulous, handling the homefront for us. He does all the cooking and groceries,and other miscellaneous errands. I've been able to manage taking care of myself- bathing, dressing etc., and my designated main focus has been my therapy.  I walk every day and also do exercises, I massage my knee in a warm water bath twice a day, and while I am in the tub, I take advantage of how big the tub is and get in some bicycle exercises in the water. Those have been so helpful. Still, progress has been slow, slow slow.  And, there is alot of pain still. 

As for a Venice Experience, I get to recover here in Venice.  We walked outside for the first week and a half. Usually we'd go to Campo Santa Margharita, stop for lunch or a cup of tea, and then make the return trip home.  Despite the weather, Mike would go out with me for a 30 min or so walk every day.  We walked in snow. We walked in high water (Aqua Alta).  We walked. And what a heavenly place to have to walk in. We walked, until one day I was feeling really good and decided to keep walking. We walked for almost an hour and a half, and I could barely get home in one piece. I had overstepped my limits and completely wore myself out. I had no stamina left. 

A few days after that, I came down with some horrendous stomach/intenstinal bug that lasted a week and a half.  Some of those days it was all I could do to get out of the bed and walk around the inside of the apartment, but I knew I had to keep walking, keep the knee moving, so I did it.  It became a very funny routine, because my dog Sam would follow me step by step around the house every time I did my circuit.  Just the other night, I noticed both dogs were trailing behind me. I felt like we were doing the Baby Elephant walk from the movie Hatari, remember that? Come on, babies, come on. 

Despite the exercises and walking, my knee has made only slow progress. I've wondered at times if the surgery is worth it, considering how bad my knee feels now. Sleep is difficult. Every time something rubs across the incision, like the sheets, or pajamas, it feels uncomfortable.  The skin surrounding the incision feels different, not like my own skin.  The knee itself is swollen and heavy, and tight, like it's not my knee at all. But, I've been told that in time, everything will feel better, so I religiously keep up the walking and exercises.

For the last two days the stomach bug has been finally on it's way out, I've felt alot better, so I've kicked up my walking.  I've also been working hard to be able to sit at the table for meals with my knee at 90 degrees. For any length of time, that is a killer. I can do it for a few minutes, then have to move my leg so it's more inclined.  I also just got a phone call from Fate Bene Fratelli letting me know that my out patient rehab will begin on January 10. I am excited, because I really feel like I am ready for the next step, and also scared, because Blagha will be on my case about my knee not doing better, I think.

Last night I spent alot of extra time exercising my knee, working on that 90 degree bending, which hurts so much.  After I got done exercising, I noticed my knee moving much much better, with less pain, and commented to Mike about it. Hummm.. something is going on.

Also, last nite I got some decent sleep for a change. I woke up with a very "unswollen "knee, looking very much like an ordinary knee. During the night the scar did not bother me when clothing touched against it,and today my knee feels like an ordinary knee, not like I have some foreign object in it that isn't part of me. Even the skin around the incision feels much better.  Glory hallelujeah, there has been another breakthrough!!!!  This is good, very good.  Very funny thing about my two breakthroughs- one the day my knee was bending without having the socks on, and today, when I have almost no pain and my knee feels and is acting like my own knee, finally. Both of these events happened on Feste days.  First it was after Feast of the Immaculate Conception and now, Feast of the Epiphany, which is when we celebrate the three Wise Men arriving at the manger bearing their gifts.  I feel like I got my gift today. Thank you!!!!

Now I am excited for the next phase of recovery, and whatever comes with it ( possibly throwing the crutches away??? being able to actually get down on my knees again ?  or sit crosslegged on the floor?  or run a little ways slowly???? or dance??  ) 

Fate Bene Fratelli, I'll see you again on Monday!

Fate Bene Fratelli- Part V Gruppo di Ginocchi and going home

              Boat parked INSIDE Fate Bene Fratelli's water door  - photo by Mike Henderson

I got assigned to attend a special physical therapy session called the Knee Group (Gruppo di Ginocchio) at the beginning of my second week at Fate Bene Fratelli.  Oh boy, yet another session, I was thinking.  I remember the first day I went to Knee Group.  By now I was mobile enough that I could get myself around fairly easily with my crutches. One of the things I loved about Fate Bene Fratelli was as a patient,you have free reign to come and go around the place as you please.  I could get up, walk out of my room, and go all the way to the front entrance, I could stop in the coffee shop for as long as I wanted- it was great.

  So, that day, I got myself to the Physical Therapy area, and had to ask where the Knee Group was meeting. There were two girls at the reception area, one whose name I knew- Barbara. The other I didn't recognize.  I asked where the Knee Group was, they pointed me to the place, but before I could leave the girl I did not know said to me (all in Italian) "You are from Germany?".  Barbara then chimes in "No, No, she is Napolitana, I know it."  I'm laughing, "No girls, I'm from America!  I'm an Italian citizen also now. And, I have relatives near Naples".  Barbara smiled " See- Napolitana!!!"  Get off to your group now ". 
I was as much a novelty to everyone at Fate Bene Fratelli as they were to me, it seemed.

My Knee Group was a tiny bunch , just 4 of us, two men and two women. Turns out 3 of us had knee replacements, I never did figure out what the other woman's problem was, as she had no scar, but wore some sort of brace that she took off for our exercise session. Our therapist was a young adorable woman named Alberta.  At Fate Bene Fratelli, the nursing staff all wear white scrubs and blue sweaters, while the therapists all wear something differernt- white scrub pants with a pale grey t-shirt. The shirt has FATE BENE FRATELLI printed on it in small letters on upper right side of the shirt.  Many of the therapists personalize their outfit by wearing a particular color of crocs.   Alberta always wore a lilac color sweater/jacket and matching lilac colored crocs. That was her signature color. 

Each day at Knee Group, Alberta (Albi) tailored the exercises to each of our injuries and capabilties. She made it fun, despite the pain involved.  Often she would play music from her iPhone for us to exercise to. One day she was very excited, she had the video Walt Disney's Snow White, which she loved, on her phone so we exercised to the music of Snow White, sung in Italian, of course.  I laughed, and said we should really be exercising to music from Fantasia, cause I felt more like the hippos wearing Tu-tu's.  She loved that idea, and promised to find it so we could use that music. Sure enough, 3 days later we were straining our old knees to Fantasia.  Funny, everyone in the room knew the movie well.  On my last day of the group, Albi planned for us to exercise to music from Peter Pan-"You can fly, you can fly".. Perfect.  I loved her enthusiasm. 

Albi called me "Margaret".  The first few times she did, I didn't even respond, didn't recognize she was talking to me. Then it dawned on me, my middle name Margaret shows up on all my medical forms, and she didn't know how to say Karen.  No one at the hospital or here ever called me Karen. I was "Signora", or now "Margaret", or even I was called by my Italian last name, which is different from my American last name. I know, very weird!  But I soon got used to answering to "Mar-gar-et" for Albi. 

Albi was also the therapist in charge of my 6pm water therapy session, so I got to see plenty of her and her lilac shoes for the next two weeks.  She was a joy.

It was in my Knee Group that I met Carlo, also.  Each of us in the group had our own massage table we would lay on or sit on during our session. Carlo was on the table to my right every day. I was the newcomer, the other 3 had been in the group already by the time I got there.  On my first day, Carlo introduced himself to me, and said "Are you English", to me, in Italian. I explained back that I was American, but also Italian, and now lived here.  Carlo asked, "Please speak English with me, I like to practice". Sure, that made it easy for me. Carlo and I would see each other several times a day in sessions, and also in the halls while doing our walking practices. It was Carlo who tipped me off about a thinner type of sock (Calze) than the one's I was using. 

On my very last full day at Fate Bene Fratelli, I was not having a good afternoon. Every other day I was happy, smiling, getting through whatever I had to endure.  But this afternoon just defeated me, I didn't have a smile left in me.  I had been informed a few days before that I would be discharged on Wednesday, December 15. Yahoo!  I also knew from watching my roommate that there was a discharge procedure- you met with the doctor, there were forms to fill out, and the hospital arranged water transportation to take you home.  Here it was the afternoon before I was scheduled to leave, and no one had said one thing to me.  So, I stopped at the nurses station. Yes, I was leaving the next morning.  Was I going to meet with the doctor, what time would my boat be taking me home?  No one knew anything. Turns out, no arrangements had been made. I slipped through the cracks. This was bad.  The answer I got was you can leave when you want, and just go catch a vaporetto home.  Oh good lord, that made it worse. I definitely wanted to speak with a doctor, get prescriptions for pain medication, find out what kind of things I could or could not do at home,a nd when was a follow up appointment?  Seemed logical to me.  How could this happen? Why me?

That evening when I entered my pool session at 6pm, I was beside myself.  I was in the water, doing my normal routine when Barbara, the young girl who insisted I was Napolitana says to me, "What is wrong, you are not smiling?? "Huh?"  "You are always the sunshine, with a big smile when I see you. Now you are sad. What is wrong?"   "Not sad, very mad"  "Why".  "Oh, it's ok. Nothing you can do"   She brings Albi over, and insists I tell them what is wrong.  So I proceed to tell her about my discharge problem, and tears start flowing.  Albi says," we can figure out something, cause this is not right. Tomorrow morning you have a session with Blagha before you leave.  Have Blagha take you to Il Premio, the head doctor, and get the information you need from him, because this is not right". Then Albi turns to Carlo, and tells him to help me in the morning, in case all the Italian throws me for a loop.  My merry little band of Knee Group cohorts came to my rescue. 

Fortunately, the nurses must have been jumping on my behalf also, because at 8 am the next morning, the doctor who took my staples out ( he was not the orthopedic doctor assigned to me, she was on vacation it turns out), came to my room and gave me all the answers to all the questions I had, gave me the necessary referrals for outpatient therapy sessions, and then handed me my discharge papers.  Thank goodness I didn't need to go barge in on Il Premio!!! 

I did my last session with Blagha at 8:30, Mike arrived about 9:30, a nd by 10 am we exited Fate Bene Fratelli to make our way home.   We walked out of the building, and I got my first look at the neighborhood surrounding Fate Bene Fratelli. We made our way to the vaporetto at Madonna Dell'Orto, and away we went.  Homeward bound. After one whole month away, home was going to look pretty good to me.

Fate Bene Fratelli- Part IV

I've been thinking about what the best parts of Fate Bene Fratelli were.  I have a few favorites.

First there is Camomilla time!!!  Every nite, around 8 pm, one of the staff made the rounds on the floor with a metal teapot full of steaming camomilla tea.  8 pm was the beginning of the dispensing of medications for the evening, and the start of bedtime. For me, by 8pm every nite I was wiped out and very eager to hear that voice at my doorway asking "Camomilla????"   SI!!!!!!!!!

Next there's Giordano, my next door neighbor.  Every morning, right after breakfast was served, I had to run (correction, make that hobble) to my 8:30 am session with Blagha.  And every morning, right outside my door, Giordano, in his wheelchair, was taking up his position for the day.  Most of the wheelchair bound residents seem to do this same thing, They would get themselves ready for the day, then go to the hallway to watch what was going on.  When I did my walks up and down the hallway I'd pass them all one by one. No one ever said a thing to me, but they all watched me.  And when I was in my room in my bed, I'd hear people pass my room and ask Giordano about " the Americana",  One day on my rounds I just started saying hello to people as I passed by.  Giordano was the one who spoke back.  The next day I found Giordano wheeling right along beside me as I walked, so I said, "Let's go together!" I could manage that in Italian.  We ended up stopping at the end of the hall to have a great conversation. He asked me about why I was here in Italy, and he told me about his one and only trip to America, a month long vacation to the West Coast. 

Thereafter when someone passed Giordano's room asking about "the Americana", I'd hear him answer "She's Italian too!!", and day by day, as I made my rounds down the hall saying Buon Giorno to every one, little by little they would answer me back.  Giordano and I would have little conversations every day whenever we passed each other.

Giordano was such a character. My room, and also his, were right opposite the nurses station.  He never rang his bell to call a nurse if he needed one, he would just bellow.  Nightly, we would hear him yell " Olio!!".  Giordano needed a nightly dose of oil, I guess.  It got so funny hearing him yell for "Olio" that I also started yelling " Bring Giordano his Olio".  The nurses would just stop in my room , laughing, and say "OK.  Basta (Stop)".  I miss seeing Giordano everyday. I hope he is ok.

Next there is the nursing staff on First floor. Oh my god, this is a great bunch of men and women.  There were only one or two of them who knew a few words of English, so I not only had the challenge of getting my knee rehabilitated, but also to communicate.   All of these people are special, a few of them stick out in my mind:  Nicola, a nurse, who had his first day of work at Fate Bene Fratelli during my stay.  I'll never forget the day he and another nurse had the fun task of getting my sock (calze) on my leg after one of my pool sessions.  He had never done this before, so it was a good training exercise for him.  These two poor nurses looked like they were trying to hog-tie me and all I could do was laugh.  It took them both about 20 minutes to get the one sock finished, and they left my room exhausted.  And one one of my very last days, Nicola was the one who brought me my ice pack at the end of the day.  My leg was swollen and hurting. He handed me the ice and said to me in Italian, "Basta. Stay in bed. You are on the go all day, from 8;30 to now, and in between you walk. And then you die. Let your knee rest now. Basta". 

Next there is Rosita.  On the morning I met Rosita, she was coming into our room to make beds.  The first thing she said to me, in English, was " Put it on the table".  I was confused, I asked her " What?". Then she said, in Italian, "That's the only English I know, so I thought I'd say it to you".  Quite a few times after that when I'd see Rosita either she or I would begin with " Put it on the table".

On my last few days at Fate Bene Fratelli, I started taking photos of people with my iPhone. The staff cracked me up, they all wanted to see the photos of themselves. I honestly never want to forget them, or my time spent there. My one regret is that one of my favorite characters was off from work those days so I missed getting a shot of Guilio.  Guilio scared me at first because he just didn't look like a nurse to me. He looked more like a biker dude.  He had longish hair, and this scary tattoo of a snake that took up half his arm.  I had to hold my mouth shut from laughing when it was his turn to serve meals because he looked so darned funny in a plastic apron and plastic cap on his head. But, despite his outward appearance, Guilio turned out to be the most gentle and tender of them all. He found his calling as a nurse, I can tell, and I was lucky enough to experience it.

My list goes on, but I'll stop here.

My Italian improved dramatically during my three weeks here. Who knew there'd be such an additional bonus!

Fate Bene Fratelli - Part III - or "The Great Sock Debacle"

Week two at Fate Bene Fratelli was more of the same- alot more, as my rehab schedule increased to include two water therapy sessions a day, and a special "Knee Group". 

I loved the water therapy.  I had one session at 10 am, and another at 6pm.  Before going to the pool, I had to get to my room, change into a bathing suit, and then stop at the nurses station to have them put a plastic protective covering over the incision.  Oh, and before I forget, I got to take off the SOCKS. More on this in a minute. 

To get into the pool, you sit in a  mechanical chair that swings over the water and you are lowered into the water.  In the water, your knee feels great.  No pain. You can do things with it that you couldn't do so easily outside the water.  I loved it.  I could stay there forever doing bicycle exercises.  My 10 am session consisted of people I had never seen before, but all of my "Knee group" members were also at the 6pm pool session, so I saw these people alot and got to know them a little better.

Now, more on the socks.  One of the things I was told to bring with me to Ospedale were these special socks (calze) that are specially designed to protect you from blood clots. It's customary to wear these after knee surgeries of all kinds. In my case I was required to wear them for 40 days following surgery.   I had to be measured for them to get the correct size for my legs. Both legs had to have them on, even the unoperated one.  These socks are stretchy, and tight. They fit like skin.  And they are not easy to get on. It ususally took two nurses to wrestle it on to my poor knee, trying hard to get up and over the dressing on my incision without sending me into orbit in pain. These socks have to be on night and day, and frankly, they  hurt, and are a pain in the butt.  But I understand the purpose.  So. Once I started water therapy, the socks came on and off twice a day.  What an ordeal.  I could get them off me by myself ok, but needed the nurses to get them back on. My leg felt great when the socks were off, like I'd been released from prison or something. Lots of benefits to the water therapy!!! 

On Sundays and holidays, there is no rehab at Fate Bene Fratelli. It's a day off for you to relax.  On Saturdays, you have a reduced schedule, since the physical therapists only work half day.  By week two, with my increased therapy schedule, I really looked forward to Sunday. December 8th was a special holiday here in Italy, the Feast of the Immaculate Conception. I was raised Catholic, but I don't go to church regularly. Don't ask me why, but I decided to go to mass on Dec 8th.  Oh I do know why, I needed some divine intervention and I needed it pronto. I was certain my knee was never going to bend, and that scared me to death.

 I haven't quite figured out the workings of Fate Bene Fratelli, whether it is a religious organization run by nuns or a government facility, because it is part of the Italian National Health service too. There were a couple of nuns always around.  On the morning of December 8 I asked our resident nun to remember to please come pick me up on her way to the chapel.  Almost all of my fellow residents on our floor were present in the pews when I arrived and I saw several members of my Knee Group too.  Mass was nice, although difficult to sit through because of the position of my knee as I was sitting.  When it was over, I hobbled back to my room on my crutch, happy for a day off from work!!

The next morning  I decided to get the nurse to put the plastic protective covering on my incision first thing in the morning to save time.  I got to my 8:30 am session with Blagha and things went miraculously well. Everytime she asked me to do some knee bend, I was doing it. She was aghast. What the heck is going on? You could not do these day before yesterday.  I know, I know. It was a miracle.  Yes, that and the socks.  I didn't have them on.  Blagha and I seemed to realize that at exactly the same moment. Wow... the socks.  They were so tight and restrictive on my knee, it couldn't move. Without it, my knee was moving.  Blagha called the orthopedic doctor immediately!  A breakthrough!  Blagha asked the doctor to give me permission to stop wearing the socks, but she said no. Instead she told my husband to go buy another pair one size bigger.  I was so dejected to have to wear them.  Blagha had a great solution!  Every morning when I went to her, we took off my socks, and I left them off until after my 10 am water session.  Alot of progress was made in the next few days. Alot.

Mike bought the larger socks, and I was back in them as directed.  About two days later during my session with Blagha in the morning, the head doctor, whose title is " Il Premio", stopped by Blagha's station.  He ran his hands over my knee, asked her a few questions, smiled and said " Buon lavoro" (good work). I'd seen him around before. In fact, he had been in my room examining my knee early on. He's hard to miss, he wears bright blue framed glasses that separate in the middle and connect with a magnet at the nosepiece. The glasses are always around his neck on a chain hanging in two pieces. Funny.  I didn't think anything of his visit that morning, just a routine thing.   When I finished up with my all my morning sessions and made my way back to my room, the nurse on duty called me over to the nurses station when she saw me turn the corner.  "No more socks for you," she said.  "I don't know how you did it, but you are out of the socks. Brava!"  Thank you, Il Premio. Thank you, Blagha.  And thank you, Lord, because maybe I did get alittle divine intervention thrown in!

Sidenote on the socks: Now I have two pairs of these things, size medium and size large.  In addition to that, I also discovered that the men in my knee group were wearing a different kind of sock, one much thinner than mine, so I sent Mike to buy a pair of those for me, just a day before Il Premio gave me the pardon.  If anyone needs these, let me know!

Fate Bene Fratelli - Part II

Fate Bene Fratelli.  Where in the world do I begin? I've got so much to say about this whole experience.  First of all, I think small miracles happen here.  Really.  Or at least very good things.

My home away from home for 3 weeks, room 123, was great.  All rooms here are set up for two beds, a table with two chairs, ample separate closet space for two people, and a separate bathroom, including a shower that was big enough to accomodate a wheelchair. From my window I could look down on to a canal, across the canal was a large soccer field  and  beyond the soccer field was the lagoon and I could see Murano.  Not bad.

My roommate for the next 3 weeks was an 86 yr old native Venetian woman who only spoke Venetian dialect.  I can barely speak standard Italian. Venetian dialect was beyond me, but, by the end of our time together, we managed to  communicate pretty well.  She had been in Ospedale for 30 days, then 20 days in Fate Bene Fratelli by the time I arrived.  I never figured out her name, and never figured out exactly what she was in there for.  She scared the heck out of me at first, I have to be honest, because she had a problem with everything. If the staff didn't arrive to get her out of bed and dressed when she wanted them, she let them have it. If they did arrive on time she let them have it.  And, after they left the room, she cursed them out at the top of her lungs for another 30 minutes.  I truly believe they put me in with her because they knew I wouldn't understand a thing she was saying.  After awhile I tuned her out, except when she was muttering " Morte de cani di Venezia", which happened often, mostly at night after lights out. I was convinced she was putting curses on all of us, and prayed I would be exempt.  Still on my "to do list" is to find a Venetian and figure out what that phrase means.

Rehabilitation is the entire focus of life at Fate Bene Fratelli. Your whole day revolves around it, and you quickly fall into the routine.  Breakfast is served at 7am, which is always pane (bread) and marmelatta  delivered to your room on a tray, followed by someone serving your choice of espresso, macchiato, caffee latte, cappucino, orzo or tea.  I am a tea with milk drinker. Every morning when I asked for latte (milk) in my tea, I got strange looks or "No, Limone (lemon)" back.  It took a few mornings, but eventually the tea with latte came daily. And it was good.

Right after breakfast comes the morning distribution of medications.  The nurses here do double and triple duty, as they also must do all the food serving. I've never seen anything like it, it all operates like clockwork. And then rehab starts. Everyone has scheduled rehab.  My first session of the day started at 8:30 am every day, a private session with my physical therapist, Blagha.  Since I arrived at night, my first session was the following morning. Normally you are either taken by wheelchair or you get yourself  to the therapy room, however if you aren't mobile, the therapist comes to you. So I met Blagha on my first full day when she came into my room.  My blood pressure was still so low I wasn't able to get out of bed yet. 

That first day Blagha massaged and manipulated my leg and knee.  The second day, I got delivered to the therapy room for my time with Blagha, and added on a second session - 30 minutes on the knee machine. Each day after Blagha worked my knee, I'd get on the knee machine. Each day she'd kick up the setting another 5 degrees or so. That determines the angle the machine bends your knee to, and it does this non stop for 30 minutes.  Blagha is a tall, very attractive blonde woman from Bulgaria, who lives on the Lido. She was murder on me every single minute, she didn't let up. I was supposed to be bending my knee, and as much as I tried, that knee wasn't bending.

By day 4, I had been sent for x-rays. Blagha and the orthopedic doctor had conferences with the surgeon at Ospedale. They determined the new knee was good, there was nothing wrong with it. The reason my knee wasn't bending was all ME.  I had no idea why. I was trying, it wasn't bending, and the pain was excrutiating. Blagha explained to me that I had to relax the muscles, then the knee would move. And when the muscles were tense, thats what creates the pain. Why wasn't I relaxing them?  Huh? I don't know why.  This was a huge problem. On the evening of night 5, it became an even bigger problem. I got a visit from the orthopedic doctor at my bedside.  Why isn't my knee moving, she wanted to know.  She felt up and down my leg for a few minutes, then before I knew what was going on, she grabbed the shin part of my leg in one hand and the thigh part in the other and bent my leg like it was a wish bone.  I heard several huge popping and snapping sounds, and I was screaming in pain.  A nurse actually RAN into my room to see what was going on.  Oh my god, I was in agony. I was afraid to look, thinking I'd see my leg in two separate pieces on the bed. After she finished with that, the doctor said, "See, you can bend that knee".  Now here's the really odd thing. 30 minutes after she did that, my knee felt much better. Much better. 

The next morning, the doctor was waiting for me at my 8:30 session with Blagha. She wanted to know if I was ok. Yes, thanks, everything is great :).  My knee still wasn't bending the way it was supposed to, but it did feel better.  For most of the next week, I worked hard every day to get my knee to bend the way they wanted me to.  My sessions jumped from 2 times a day to 3, and in between I was walking the corridors on my crutches.  I graduated to one crutch by the middle of that week, and I am sure I was a regular eyesore for all the residents on my floor because I was walking the halls whenever I wasn't in some session.  I was making small progress. That was good for me, but not good enough for Blagha and my doctor.

I arrived on November 21. On November 30, the staples (30 of them) were taken out of my leg, and I got my first look at the incision. Even though the dressing was changed daily, I never looked, I didn't have the guts. I'd ask every day if everything looked ok.  That;s all that mattered, did it look like it was healing up ok.  When I did look, what I found was all 10 inches of it was pretty darned ugly.  But, now with the staples out, I could  start going to water therapy, which I did twice a day, bumping my sessions from 3 a day to 5. Whenever there was some "down time", I was in my bed exhausted with ice packs on my knee.   Very slow progress being made.

More on six days in Ospedale Civile

When my surgery was scheduled originally, I was told I would be in the hospital 7-10 days, then have 3 weeks of rehabilitation. So I had prepared myself for a long 10 days in here. I asked if I could have my laptop- no. I asked if I could have my cell phone- probably not, no signal in the building. Hmm. This was going to be more of a challenge than I thought. I brought the cell phone, and decided I'd be optimistic about it. And, on rare occassion, I actually got a signal.

Ospedale Civile is an enormous building. I get lost in it every time I go there. It's located inside the Scuola Grande di San Marco, in Campo Giovanni e Paolo. Zillions of tourists stop and stare at the incredible facade on this building every year, and walk past it never even realizing it's our hospital. So.. deep inside this monstrous old building, which became a hospital in the early 1800's, I spent six interesting days.













A few immediate impressions:

- Everyone, without exception, wears white scrubs. In the USA, I am so used to seeing nurses in colorful tops- bunnies, flowers, birds, santas. You name it, it will be on some nurse's garb. Not here. It's all white- V neck tops and white pants. Everyone wears the same blue sweater if they are cold.

- Hospital food is hospital food no matter where you go. It wasn't anything to write home about. For breakfast there was the normal pastry with a cup of tea or coffee. Lunch was usually a pasta or soup for the first course, followed by a meat and vegetable for secondo. Dinner was pretty much the same as lunch. Ususally there was also fresh fruit available.

-Italian nurses seem to know how to stick you for blood with alot more precision than I ever experienced in the US. I was used to nurses taking 2, 3, 4 attempts to get a needle in, and me always having an incredibly bruised arm afterwards. This never happened here.

During the course of my six days, I got to know several different shifts of nurses, and some of them were quite the character. My favorite was the big burly bald headed guy with a goatee, who reminded me more of Hulk Hogan. I wish I could remember his name! Everyone knew I was "The Americana", and that was usually the topic of conversation whenever a nurse was with me, either to stick me for blood or change the sheets, they were all asking me why I was there. Some of the younger nurses knew a tiny bit of English. One particular day one girl asked me if I needed more drugs and my answer was "Oh yeah!!" She repeated "Oh yeah", and from then on everytime she was in to visit me she'd ask me some question or we'd be talking about something or other, and she would always say "Oh yeah".

On one day, this young nurse and the big burly Hulk Hogan guy were at my bed, hooking up the knee machine for me to use. Hulk Hogan heard us talking, and he says " Colorado" out of the blue. Oh, you know Colorado? With a big smile, he says "Si, and Frank Sinatra!" He was singing "Strangers in the Night" as he walked out of my room. Gotta love it.

Talk about Strangers in the Night.... some strange stuff goes on in the hospital at night. I'm not a good sleeper, so I needed them to give me medication. What I was hoping for was to be knocked out so I could get some good sleep. Not going to happen. My roommate snored. Big time. Besides that, there were two women down the hall who screamed "Aiuto mi" (Help me) all night long at the top of their lungs. And I have not yet figured out what the nurses do after they put all the patients down for bed. The nurses station was across the hall from my room, and while I was up all night, I would hear them laughing and eating all night long. I wished my leg was working so I could have gotten up and gone to hang out with them.

They did give me sleeping medication, but what they gave me didn't do a thing One night having nothing to do but stare at the ceiling, I made notes on what I thought would make a great Saturday Night Live skit--- notes for a Do it yourself Knee replacement Kit, for all those poor folks without insurance but need to have the operation. That same night, as one of the nurses made her late rounds she stopped and asked me why I was still awake. And then she says,"We can put you down with the two screamers if you like! " No thanks, I'll stay right here. After night three, they upped my sleeping medication dosage, and I did sleep. Whatever they gave me left me a little less than lucid in the morning also.

On day 3, I spent what seemed to be most of the day getting transfusions, since my blood pressure was so low. I learned to say "Gira in testa" (my head is spinning/ I'm dizzy) real fast.
My orthopedic surgeon visited that day, the ace bandages on my leg were taken off, the dressing changed and the drain removed. He told me everything went well, it looked good, and I had to be getting up. Yes, I wanted to be up also.

The getting up didn't work so well. I managed to get about 10 steps from the bed before I got so dizzy I nearly passed out. The two nurses with me got me back into the bed. I continued to use the knee machine that was brought to my bed to move my knee, but I wasn't up walking.

On day 4, a nurse informed me that I would be moved in two days to Fate Bene Fratelli at 5pm. That's all she told me. What??? I had no clue what Fate Bene Fratelli was. Fortunately, the daughter of the woman in the bed next to mine was there at the time, and she explained to me that Fate Bene Fratelli is a rehabilitation center in Cannaregio. Her mother had been there the year before, and would be going there again when she was released from the hospital in a few days. She told me the staff was wonderful, and it was a very good place. My roommate was an adorable little elderly woman named Loredana who was in for a hip replacement.

The pain medication was wonderful. It was administered by IV, and whenever I said I felt pain, a new bottle was hooked up, and I felt good again. Aside from the low blood pressure problem I really felt pretty good. I was hooked up to the knee machine twice a day to keep my knee moving, and on day six, I actually was able to get up out of the bed and walk down the hall and back to my bed with two crutches and the assistance of the physical therapist.

My husband Mike came to visit me twice a day, making the trip by the number 42 boat from Piazzale Roma to Fondamenta Nove and walking the rest of the way. On days when it wasn't exceptionally foggy and the #52 was running, he could take that all the way to Ospedale.

On day six, I was disconnected from my IV, and around 4:30 pm I got ready to be moved to Fate Bene Fratelli., which was supposed to happen at 5pm. Finally out of a hospital gown and into my own clothes!!! That felt good. We waited, and waited, and finally a nurse came and told us the move would be delayed, there were no boats yet, but one would be coming. The next chapter in my adventure was about to begin.

Surgery day

I don't remember a whole lot of November 16, but what I do remember needs to be recorded here.



I was having full knee replacement surgery, which involves inserting a metal substitute for the knee joint into the two leg bones. I knew ahead of time the make and model of the knee joint I'd be receiving- an American made prosthetic. I also had lots of fears. Would my legs be the same size when they were done? That was a huge worry in my mind. Would the new knee be the right size for my leg? Would I be able to wear high heels ever again? Would I be able to sit indian style on the floor ever again? All these thoughts were running through my head as I was being wheeled off to surgery on the morning of November 16. Thankfully, those magic happy drops the nurse gave me took such an edge off, the answers to all my questions weren't very important at the moment.



It was a short gurney ride to surgery. I'd never seen anything like it. You enter an area that is entirely stainless steel, with one big open slot in one wall. There is a nurse on the other side of this slot, I could see her. My gurney was wheeled up to the slot, lined up, and with a one, two, shove, I was moved off the gurney, through the slot, and onto another gurney on the other side. I recall the two nurses having some sort of conversation, and then my gurney was moved a bit, and a doctor walked over to me. He had colorful glasses. Green frames, and he wore a colorful surgical cap. I remember telling him I didn't speak much Italian. He made some small talk, then told me he was going to give me an ansethetic that would only numb me from the waist down, I'd be awake otherwise. A second doctor was in front of me, I was now sitting on the gurney, while the anesthesiologist inserted a needle into my spine. It seems like only a few minutes later and I didn't feel a thing in my legs, and they wheeled me into the operating arena.



I could see all sorts of equipment, trays of instruments, numerous nurses and doctors all moving around, getting things set up. They put a dark green piece of material screen-like thing in front of my face so I couldn't see a thing (thank goodness), and things started to happen. I heard lots of chatter, nothing I could particularly remember afterwards, but I know everyone seemed to be happy. Doctors were singing, one of them I know for sure was singing this popular Italian song "Ancora". What I remember most the sounds of lots of drilling and sawing, which seemed to go on forever. I was imagining Santa's Elves with dremel tools making toys. Really.



The next thing I remember is arriving at my hospital room being moved off a gurney into the bed. My left leg was wrapped in ace bandages. I was told the surgery itself was about 2 hours. I was in recovery a bit longer. The very first thing I did was put my two legs together and look at them to try to determine if they were still the same length. They appeared to be, so I felt relieved. One worry I could tick off my list.



What I expected next was that later that day or the next morning I would be gotten out of bed. I had read that getting out of bed early was necessary with knee replacement surgery. Unfortunately for me, that did not happen. I had pretty severe low blood pressure, which made me extremely dizzy, so I wasn't able to get out of bed that day or the next. I'm someone who has had high blood pressure for years, and wouldn't you know it, now it was just the opposite!