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.

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!!!

Surgery, Italian Style

Health care is a global topic this year, and is most certainly on the minds of every American I know. Everytime we meet an American vacationing here in Italy, one of the first questions we are asked is what is the Italian health system like. Since we've just had our first surgical experience in a hospital here, I thought this would be a perfect topic for blogging.



A bit of background info is needed first : My husband Mike was having some abdominal pain, which, after doing some research on WebMd, he self diagnosed as a hernia. He made an appointment with his doctor here in Venice, who confirmed it. The doctor told him the hernia was small, and probably would not be operated on until it got bigger, but, he gave him a referral to a surgeon. The surgeon examined Mike, and decided to operate sooner, rather than later. Since it wasn't life threatening, his surgery was scheduled in July, about 90 days following his first visit to the surgeon. He had several phone calls with the scheduling office at the hospital, everything seemed very efficient.



On the morning of the operation, we left home around 6:15, taking the vaporetto from Piazzale Roma to Ospedale. Mike was to report to Day Surgery at 7:30 am. He had been advised to bring pajamas and clogs with him, and not to eat any breakfast. We arrived a bit early, so we joined a few others already in the waiting room. At 7:30, we queued up outside the nurses office to be checked in. They actually came down the line and called for Mike to come forward. We then discovered he was scheduled to be operated on first that day. Good thing to know.



Following some paper signing, we were shown to a hospital room down the hall which had 3 beds in it. It was large and very clean, and also had a bathroom with a shower. Mike was taken to the bathroom where the nurse shaved an area on his abdomen. Mike was told to take his clothes off, wrap a green sheet around him, and get on the gurney. The nurse covered him with a blanket, and they wheeled him off to the Operating Room.

Here is where I noted a difference between hospitals in the US and in Italy. They did not have hospital gowns, not even disposable ones. You wrap up in a sheet instead. Ok.. I can see that this would save a bit. Hmmm.... Mr. Obama, maybe this would cut a line item out of the health care reform bill.

While the surgery was taking place, I went down into Campo Giovanni e Paolo to Rosa Salva for tea and a brioche. About an hour later I returned to Mike's hospital room to await his return.

Mike was wheeled into his room about an hour later than had been estimated. It turns out he had been given a local anesthesia, but needed something stronger. They knocked him out. His version of this is alot funnier than mine, he retells thinking the room was upside down even. You have to have a little patience with him, he had never been a patient in a hospital before, and this was his first surgery. And, for some unknown reason, he seemed to think it was going to be a party. I had cautioned him that no matter how small the incision might be, it was still abdominal surgery. I thought it was going to sting. I won.

He remained in the hospital room until almost 5pm that day, during which time the nurses came several times to check on him, make sure he could get up and walk about, and get to the bathroom ok. A doctor came in to examine him also, and gave him the final ok to go home. They gave him some pain medication to take with him, and made an appointment for the next Monday morning for a follow-up appointment.

We were incredibly impressed with the care and attention Mike received. Everyone, and I mean everyone, made extra effort to ensure that we understood exactly what we needed to understand. If there was someone who didn't speak English very well, they went and got someone else who did speak better to help them. They didn't have to do any of that, we were the ones who should have been speaking better Italian. In short, we were highly impressed every step of the way.

As for differences... besides the hospital gown, there is one other thing. This cost roughly 75 Euros for the whole thing, including the office visit to the surgeon, the surgery, and the follow up visit. Wow.