The Impegnativa, one very important Italian document

Perhaps a better title for this post is The Italian Medical system, part XXX .  Seems I could write on this topic endlessly!  It's a subject I get asked about frequently in emails and in conversations with tourists from almost every country imaginable, but mostly from Americans wanting to hear first hand what I think about the differences between medical services here and back home.

I spent a bit of time this rainy morning over at Ospedale Civile while waiting for an appointment with an ear specialist, and that got me to remembering a previous visit to an ear specialist back about 6 years ago.  It was my famous visit to ex-Ospedale Giustinian, over in Dorsoduro, the afternoon I got lost and locked in the bowels of that huge, dark, scary Venetian building and ran into the worker wearing only his underwear. An afternoon I would like to be able to forget, but unfortunately that image is forever etched in my brain.

Last week when I was making this appointment, I flatly refused any and all possible appointment times offered at Giustinian. No, never again. Trust me. Never again. I'll go anywhere else, even to Mestre on the mainland, but not Giustinian. Thankfully this morning finds me at Ospedale Civile in Campo San Giovanni e Paolo.

I couldn't help but do a re-play of that horrifying afternoon in my head while passing time in the waiting room this morning. When my turn was called, I took my place at the sportello (counter) where the intake nurse processed my paperwork. Finished with all that, I asked if she could help me with one other matter.  I've been having a real run around trying to get appointments for injections in my knee for months now, and since Orthopedics share the same office space here I thought I'd just try my luck one more time. I already had an impegnativa (see photo above) for the injections, but for unknown reasons every time I tried to make the appointments, I was given another reason why they could not make an appointment on this doctor's calendar. It has been months, and still nothing. 

I'd discussed this problem with my regular doctor the week before, and she gave me yet another impegnativa for the injections with the advise to try again at the hospital appointment desk. I did try, but was told only my Orthopedic dr. could give this prescription, and I must wait on him.  Yes, I've been waiting. Months. And now the knee has decided this isn't fun any more.  So today, I explain that I now have 2 impegnativas and still no appointments. My regular doctor had also advised me that if I still didn't get an appointment to go take the matter up with the woman who runs the Office of Public Relations. That woman was my next stop this morning, after the ear dr. finished up with me.

The second secretary in the office, who was listening to my explanation of the multi-impegnativas,  turned from her computer screen to face me and told me to come see her when I had finished up with the ear doctor.

Back in the waiting area, I waited for my turn for the doctor. When my number was called, I was
introduced to a fairly young Ear, Nose and Throat specialist. Instead of asking me what brought me to him this morning, he asks what brought me to Italy. I should have been prepared, as this is a very common question, especially in any medical office. I proceed to give him the brief history of Karen becoming an Italian. Why is this so curious?

Next question from the dr. , " Is it true American doctors are all rich? My friend told me this. "
My response: "Doctors in the US do make more than most doctors in Italy, I am sure of this." He turns to his nurse and begins a fairly lengthy discourse on how medical services here in Italy are free or so inexpensive compared to in the US. He seemed quite unhappy with the whole scenario.

As he is examining me, he relays his family story of how his nonno (grandfather) immigrated after the war, how one uncle ended up in the US, another eventually in Germany. The examination conversation took a few more turns, ending with the doctor writing another impegnativa for yet a different examination. As you may have deduced by now, the impegnativa (see photo above)  is like the Willy Wonka Golden Ticket.  This gets you appointments with specialists; blood tests, x-rays and ekg's etc.; and prescriptions. It's a crucial document.

I remembered to stop by that secretary's desk on my way out. She took both of the impegnativa's for the knee injections, looked them over, hit a few keys on her computer and asked me if next Thursday at noon worked for me.  Absolutely yes. No matter what I might have planned for next Thursday, I will be cancelling. There was no way I'd miss an opportunity to get these shots. I asked her about the other 2 dates. She responded, "Don't worry. Get here on Thursday and we'll work all the rest of that out."  I thanked her profusely. She adds, "I remembered you from when you had your knee operated on. The American woman. "

Yes, the American woman. I must seem like a freak show to these Venetians.

Another visit to the doctor, or an ape in Venice

Yes, there is a hospital in Venice.  It's even possible you may have walked by this building, stopped to take photos and never knew you were snapping a shot of the  Ospedale Civile.  This magnificent marble facade on the front of the Scuola Grande di San Marco is home to some of Venice's grandest lions. And inside the doorway is the home of Venice's medical department, including the Emergency Ward.  This is where I normally go when I have an appointment with my Orthopedic surgeon.  Notice I wrote normally.

Scuola Grande di San Marco, in Campo San Giovanni e Paolo

A few months ago I experienced some unusual pains in my left knee, the one that already has a titanium joint. Sensing something weird was going on, I made an appointment with the Orthopedic doctor. The earliest appointment I could get was not at Ospedale Civile. I'd have to go over to the Lido instead.  

Getting myself to Ospedale al Mare was a whole new experience. Vaporetto to Lido, then the bus to Piazzale Rava (Piazzale what??? Lido is way out of my comfort zone, I had no idea where or what this is).  After asking a few questions at the bus stop, I was assured I was headed in the right direction.  Where should I get off?  I should have known.  Just follow the crowd. Everyone headed to Piazzale Rava is going to Ospedale al Mare.

 Ospedale al Mare, at Piazzale Rava, Lido

The Ospedale complex at Lido is huge, and mostly unusable- old, in ruins.  This far end of it has been  getting some restoration, in fact a brand new radiography department has just opened. Now you can go to Ospedale al Mare for blood work and x-rays, among other things.

I've been out to Ospedale al Mare three times since that first appointment,  including yesterday. I'm a pro by now. And, I have to say, I really like this place. It's fairly easy to get to, and far less crowded than it is at Ospedale Civile. I get in and out of there in way less time than it normally takes to visit the specialist.  And the Orthopedic doctor is one I really like.  I'd been to him several years before when he used to have an office in Dorsoduro.  And, as he recently pointed out, he and I share the same birthday. Not the reason I like him, but it is another factor in the plus column! All things considered, having to go to Ospedale al Mare is a win-win. 

Yesterday I had to return to the dr. for "controllo", which in English is equivalent to a follow up visit. He was going to take a look at the current x-rays and make a diagnosis as to what is causing the pains in my knee.  Thankfully, the verdict was not the dire prediction he had made on my first visit. He was talking a whole new knee replacement then. Fortunately, it is not the joint. Yahoo. Happy Dance time.  He prescribed physical therapy over at FateBeneFratelli. (if you've read some of my earlier posts, you might recall this place).  Ok, thanks, Dr. I'll take that!

Before leaving his office, I mentioned that I need to have another series of Hyaluronic acid injections in my other knee.  He reminded me that he is retiring at the end of this month, that won't be possible.  "Yes, I remember you are retiring, Dr., but can't I make an appointment anyway. Won't there be another doctor here? "  He laughed.   Non so and non mi interessa! "I don't know and I don't care."

I totally get his point. He's counting days to retirement. I wouldn't care either!  Then he adds, "Look, in a while, after a few weeks, just call my house.  You can come after 6pm and I can give you the injections there. You live close to the Lido, that will work fine. But not in July. I'm spending time with my grandson at the beach. "

I'm pretty sure I won't be interrupting his long deserved retirement by popping in for those shots. But...who knows. If I have to go back to Ospedale Civile and can't get an appointment any time soon, I just might. 

Happy retirement, Dr!  I will miss this guy! 

Oh, and there's one more thing I really like about the trip to Ospedale al Mare.  There are these little sidewalk shacks/cafes along the street where the bus drops off and picks up.  Perfect for a coffee (or spritz for all you spritz drinkers) and a cornetto.

Oops. Make that two more things I really like. I get to see an ape or two while I'm out there. Ape. A-P-E. Ah-pey.  The Piaggio Ape is this tiny little truck you see all over Italy, even here on the Lido.  The name ape, which in Italian means bee, refers to the work ethic of this little gem.    I want one.

Today's holiday renamed-- Festa della Karen's Ginocchio

Today- June 2- is a national holdiay in Italy- Festa della Repubblica.  I know it's an important day, banks will be closed, etc, but I cannot help it, I must rename the holiday and claim it as my own special day! And I want the world to celebrate with me. I don't know what the cause is-whether there has been some incredible shift in the alignment of planets, or whether I have been so good God has finally decided to give me a reprieve over here (unlikely), but for whatever the reason, my new knee is finally-- 6 1/2 months after surgery-- finally feeling like I have been waiting for it to feel- like normal.   Yahoo!  I want brass bands, balloons, and lots of great Italian fireworks ( they do have the best fireworks, let it be known).

Yesterday, I was having my usual mid-day tea with a lovely couple from Australia, when the conversation turned to our poor knees. Nolene (the wife) had commented that she noticed I'm going down bridges just like her husband is- one step at a time.  Yes, I am not happy to admit that even after my surgery, I have not been going down steps correctly.  It hurts when I attempt going down one step after the other like a normal person, and I find that I am using my hip,not my knee when I try to do it correctly. My therapist screamed at me for doing.this.  So, I resort to something that works easily, doing it one step at a time.

On my way home, I started to feel very guilty that I have not been practicing stairs correctly. So, I decided I would attempt them the right way for the rest of the day.  Gritting my teeth and gearing up for the worst of it, off I went.  And what to you know, on my way down the Ponte dei Carmini, my knees were going down just fine!  Damn, I wanted to start skipping!  On the remaining bridges from there to our apartment, the same thing  - going down just fine, one leg after the other.  On my errand to the Post Office, same thing. Holy crap!

I decided not to jinx anything. I didn't say a word to anyone about this. This morning when I woke up, I noticed that my morning getting out of bed routine was much improved.  Normally, when I first stand up, there is pain. I have go give the knee a minute or two just standing in one place, then I can slowly start moving.  This morning I put my foot on the floor and off I went, like a little bat out of hell. Again, I wanted to skip (I contained myself).

I put my knee through a few tests this morning- I did all the things that normally cause me some pain, and happily noticed that I was able to do them all like it was nothing at all. At that point, I declared my holdiday, posted a status on Facebook, and sat down to write this blog. The world needs to celebrate with me.  This has been a LONG, arduous, painful 6 1/2 months.  I certainly am not 100% there yet, but this is a major milestone!  Just like the day back at FateBeneFratelli when my knee decided it would bend 90 degrees after not doing it at all, and my therapist Blagha screamed "FINALMENTE!"

Blagha, I hope you can hear me this morning ...."FINALMENTE!!!!!".  I think there is some skipping in my future!

My borrowed Italian cane

One of my blog readers recently sent me an email and requested I include more of what my daily routine is like, and what our apartment is like. Here's something that might just begin to satisfy her request.

Our apartment here in Santa Croce was rented furnished, which was exactly what we wanted. We weren't ready to ship all of our furniture over here, in fact, we anticipated liquidating most of it. So something furnished fit the bill. When we arrived, we discovered we got a bit more than what you would expect when you think "furnished".

The landlords (Padrone, in italian) are a sister and brother, who inherited the apartment when their elderly parents passed away a few years back.  They told us their father and mother were in their early 90's when they died, one shortly after the other.  It seems they could not quite deal with clearing out their family residence.

They left all the paintings on the wall, all the knick-knacks on the shelves, and even family photos in the desk drawers.  We've found their mother's shoes in the armoire, her sewing basket in the hall closet,their father's tool chest on the attic stairs. And, an umbrella stand by the front door filled with umbrellas .... and six or seven old canes!  These must have belonged to Mom and Dad.  One cane has the head of a greyhound beautifully carved in the wooden handle, and another has an ornate silver handle. The others are just plain wooden handles.  And one of them is a bit smaller than the others, clearly this was Mom's. 

When I had my recent knee surgery, we had to go buy crutches at the farmacia. This past Tuesday, my therapist graduated me from crutches to cane.  I came home from therapy thinking I would need to go out later in the day to acquire a cane for me, when I remembered that umbrella stand and the collection of canes we had.  Sure enough.. there was that smaller one.  The handle, made of plain wood, is worn a bit. When I put my hand on the handle and tried it out for myself,  I couldn't help but think of the Venetian woman who lived here before me.  Just perfect for me!

This whole week, wherever I've gone, I've carried her cane with me.  I don't have to use it all the time, it's more a safety net for getting on and off vaporettos, or down some stairs.   I like to think my safety net comes with the added benefit of a guardian angel. Thank you, Signora Bortoluzzi, for the use of your cane.

The Adventure continues- Fate Bene Fratelli Phase Two

Yesterday I started my outpatient rehab sessions back at Fate Bene Fratelli.  What an event that turned out to be! Just getting there is plenty of rehab all itself, and that's only where the fun began.

From our apartment, the only realistic way for me to get to that side of Cannaregio is to ride the vaporetto.  With me and my crutch, it's a slow walk of about 12-14 minutes to the vaporetto stop at Sant'Andrea/Piazzale Roma to catch either the #42 or #52 line to Madonna dell'Orto.   Anyone else can probably do the walk in 5-7 min. It's also just my luck that recently the boat dock for these two lines was moved from right outside the Coop at Piazzale Roma to quite a ways away in front of Sant'Andrea church. Nice and inconvenient for someone with a mobility problem to begin with! 

Once I get on the boat, it's a 20 minute ride to the Madonna dell'Orto stop, then another 15 minute walk to Fate Bene Fratelli. Again, someone without a crutch can probably do the walk in 5-7 minutes. 

Yesterday my husband Mike was good enough to accompany me on this trek, as I was not confident I could actually find Fate Bene Fratelli once I got off the boat.  I had only seen the entrance of the place twice before. The first time was the evening I arrived by boat to begin my stay. Being pitch dark, and given the fact I was in pain and not really paying much attention to anything but the pain, I never noticed what the building looked like.  The second time was the day I was released  and again, I was not in great shape that day.  I was focused on just putting one foot in front of the other and trying my hardest to actually GET to a boat stop to get home. 

Once we arrived at Fate Bene Fratelli yesterday, my first stop was the Appointment Office.  I had been instructed over the phone to report here the first day to complete paperwork. Turns out I also had to pay for my therapy sessions. As soon as it was my turn at the window , the woman on the other side exclaimed, "Ah, yes, Signora!  I remember you. The Americana!".   Then the woman behind the next window looked up from her work, shot me a big grin and said "Ciao, Signora.  I was the one who spoke with you on the phone".  All this is going down in Italian and I'm feeling pretty good that I understood everything.  And then a third woman, this time on my side of the counter, joins in and says, "Ciao!  I know you from our pool sessions a few weeks ago! How are you?".  Yes, now that I look at her more closely, I also recognized her.  This was old home week already and I hadn't even gotten 20 feet in the front door!

This third woman and I completed our transactions about the same time. By the way, I must add this little fact here:  10 sessions of water therapy and 10  45 minute long sessions with a private physical therapist cost me a whopping 36.75 Euros.  I love the Italian Health system.  Ok, back to the third woman.  We both  exited the Appointment Office , and stopped in the main lobby area to chat for a minute about our respective illnesses , and said goodbye.  The the woman says to me, "I'll see you again here, and also, we should meet outside of here, in a cafe for coffee!"  A new friend!!  This may seem odd to you, but I loved that I was making Italian friends- and here in a rehabilitation center of all places. 

With a big silly grin on my face Mike and I proceed down the hall. The very next person we encounter is none other than the Orthopedic doctor who was assigned to me when I was a patient- the one who snapped my leg in two. I'll never forget her, and she didn't forget me either. She said "Ciao" to me first, and then we had a pretty lengthy conversation about how I was doing, all in Italian too!  I thought it was an omen of some kind that she was one of the first I bump into again.

Next stop, the pool.  This is where Mike and I parted company. While I was in my sessions, he was going to go find a cafe out on the street somewhere and wait.  I changed clothes, entered the pool area, and immediately heard " Mar-gar-eeeet!".  I've gotten used to alot of the staff here calling me that, even though it's my middle name.  No one in Italy can pronounce Karen properly. It comes out something like "Ca-reeen".  The therapist handling my 11:30 pool session was the one yelling my name. This felt like coming home again!

I love my water therapy sessions.  The time goes way too quickly, I could stay in there for hours.  My knee feels different in the water-it does things I cannot get it to do otherwise, without pain.  Yesterday it felt great to be back. 

I had about 20 minutes to dry off , change clothes and get to my next session, which is with the same therapist  I had during my 3 week residence. When I saw Blaga we did the two kisses on the cheeks routine, and a big "Ciao, how are you??". We got caught up on our holidays since we hadn't seen each other since before Christmas, and then we got down to work.  Physical therapy is no picnic. For me it is more like what I imagine torture to be like. For 45 minutes Blaga somehow works some magic and gets my leg to do more than it wants to do.  She hadn't been massaging my leg for more than 10 minutes yesterday when she said," This is a miracle, your muscles are relaxed and doing great. I am going to call the doctor right now".  For me, that was a miracle, as regularly my muscles are like rock and don't want to cooperate at all. This was huge progress.  The part about calling the doctor is a running joke we have. Blaga knows my doctor snapped my leg in two, and that made me be scared to death of that doctor. Blaga always jokes about reporting my progress- good and bad- to the doctor.

Somewhere during this session, another therapist walked past where we were, recognized me and said hello. It really did feel like old home week. She went on about her business then turned around and walked away. Two seconds later she returned, and walked right up to me. This time she said, in Italian, "I remember you.  What did you do?"  My response was " Huh???".  She said, " You are thin. How did you do it?".  I laughed.  "How did I do it?  I was here for three weeks. I lost 12 lbs!".   (Note:  for being a hospital facility, Fate Bene Fratelli served excellent food.  It's just that during my stay, I didn't have much of an appetite. What I did eat was really, really good!).  I didn't  realize the weight loss was that noticeable. Evidently it is.

Mike met me when my sessions were over, and we made the trek back home.  By the time we reached our apartment, I was ready for one thing only- a nap. I was whipped.  Physical therapy for the next two weeks was going to be one heck of a challenge for me, especially since the plan was that after the first day, I was going to get there and back on my own.  That alone would be a huge challenge. First things first though, I took that nap.

Today, it was more of the same, however I had  two big accomplishements.  First, I made the trip there and back all on my own!  That's was big. Even bigger was the fact that I did the entire return trip WITHOUT my crutch.  I carried it, but didn't use it.  During today's session Blaga insisted that I would put the crutch away and walk without it from now on.  I wasn't sure I was quite ready for that, a little afraid I would fall.  Her way of proving to me that I would be ok was pretty interesting. She had me walk the whole length of the therapy room, and every 3-4 steps she would give me a pretty hefty shove, either on my left side or the right. I didn't catch on what she was doing at first, I thought she was trying to get me to stand up straighter and quite wobbling.  When I asked her if I was not standing straight enough, she grinned and said " You aren't falling down, either!".  I got it then. I had no excuse now, and she is not someone I want to piss off.  I agreed I would walk without the crutch, and she threw in a compromise. I could carry it, and use it at a boat dock, or on a stairway or bridge that didn't have any hand rails.  Mission accomplished.  I got home in one piece.

And now there is tomorrow to look forward to.

Buona Notte, tutti!

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!

Getting ready for knee surgery

I'll be checking into the hospital here in Venice on Monday morning, and having my knee replacement surgery Tuesday morning. It's not exactly the kind of Venetian experience I'd always planned to be writing about, but, heck, it's happening in Venice, and it surely is going to be an experience.

About a year ago, I made my first visit to the Orthopedic Surgeon here. In the years before I moved here, I'd had injections of synthetic joint fluid in my knees, which worked nicely. It was time for that to be done again, so I asked my primary care doctor here for a referral. All that went down like clockwork. After looking at my x-rays, the surgeon told me it was definitely time for knee surgery, he didn't think delaying it any longer was a good idea. So, he made me an appointment with the hospital.

The way things work here is that you are referred for surgery, then you wait for the hospital to call you. They set up appointments and schedule surgery dates. When I got my phone call, the woman on the other end of the phone was highly disappointed that I wasn't fluent in Italian. In fact, she told me to get someone who can speak the language to call her back.

To make a long story short, I finally was scheduled for a surgery date in March. For a number of reasons, that was not going to work for me. The girl in the scheduling office, Daniela, told me to call her back in September. Since my surgery was not a matter of life and death, this worked for me too.

In the beginning of September, I dialed Daniela's phone number. She remembered me and was very pleasant. What surprised me is that she didn't tell me to go find an Italian speaking friend. My Italian had improved enough during the interim that I could understand her, and could manage to make myself understood. She gave me some additional information, and told me to call her back on October 25.

On October 25, I made another call to Daniela. She's starting to feel like a good friend by now! This time, she has a surgery date for me. Two days later, I get another phone call, from another woman at the hospital, who has dates for me to go give blood. Again, I am able to handle the phone conversation without getting help from a native Italian speaker. Yahoo! There was only one part of the conversation I had to keep asking for help on. I thought she told me I was not to have breakfast or eat anything that morning, so I wanted to be sure. I asked her to repeat it, she did, and finally what she was saying sunk in. I CAN eat and drink. I repeat back to her exactly what she said to me, and she says " Yes, you can eat and drink." In English! And she laughs. Still, I end the phone call thinking I've done very well.

Everything is scheduled, I'm getting excited. I am to go to Ospedale on November 5 and again on November 12 to give blood. Got it.

I arrive at Ospedale on the morning of November 5 about 20 minutes before my appointment. I knew I was going to need that time to find the office I was supposed to go to. This place is huge, and very maze-like. I get lost every time I am there, and I know I must not be the only one who does. This morning there is another girl lost right along with me, and she is a native Italian speaker. We were both looking for where to give blood, and we kept seeing each other as we crossed hallways and stairwells searching. Turns out she only needed to have blood tests, while I needed to donate lots more, so we needed to go to two different places.

After finally tracking down the office for Central Transfusions, I got checked in with the secretary in charge, and waited my turn. I was called into an office by a different woman. I start off by apologizing to her, that I cannot speak Italian fluently. She says back in Italian: " It's ok, I speak some English." Between the two of us, we managed to get whatever information she needed from me for the forms she was filling out. She takes me across the hall to a room where several people are laid out, already with tubes in their arms, blood running from them into pouches. Oh boy, I'm next. I never do well with blood tests ever, I pass out.

Before the technician sticks me with the needle, I inform her that I get faint usually, and may pass out. I'd practiced that sentence in Italian before I left home. She said "No problem". She stuck my arm, I made sure to scrunch my eyeballs shut so I couldnt see anything, and it began. I was doing pretty well, I thought. All of a sudden, from across the room comes a yell "Signora, Occhi aperto!! Occhi aperto!". Crap, she's yelling at me. She wants me to keep my eyes open. Ok, I open my eyes, but look to my left, so I can avoid seeing whats going on over in my right arm.

About 10 minutes later, another technican comes over, I ask How much longer. She says, "Almost done", and I realize I am getting faint. I tell her I'm not feeling well and will probably pass out any minute. I know when it's going to happen, this is not new to me. She says, "No, you won't." I say, "Yes, I will". The one who yelled at me to open my eyes comes over and lifts my legs up so they are completely vertical, and lowers the head part of the bed. I'm thinking, I hope this works. The next thing I know, that friendly little technican is slapping my face, hard. "Signora, stay awake. Signora stay awake", she's saying to me loudly. What ever happened to smelling salts?? Don't they have that in this country???

Things got much worse before they got better. I threw up several times, which prompted visits by two doctors. They put in an IV. An hour and a half later, my blood pressure had come back up to normal levels, they had stopped slapping me, and I felt better. One of the doctors returned when the IV was empty, and said to me, "Don't come back on the 12th. You get too sick." Hey, that works for me.

I spoke with Daniela again the other day, just to check on what I need to bring with me when I check in at the hospital. In this country, you must bring your own pajamas, robe, slippers, toiletries, all that stuff with you. I love this system. I also had to go buy crutches and some special sock like things called monocollante. I'm all set.

I'm even prepared for more face slapping. But who knows what adventures await me in a few days! Light candles for me!!!