THUNK! or My Morning in the Pronto Soccorso

So my Monday was particularly exciting. I, as a Classics major got to do what many of my fellow major will never do: ride an ambulance through the Roman Forum.

Let me explain.

First of all: I am perfectly fine, it was not my accident.

Now, the story. My friend had been sick for the weekend (since we had dinner with a friend on Thursday night), and had therefore not been eating quite as much or as regularly as she should have been. Monday morning rolled around and we needed to be to the Roman Forum by 815 and had, thus, to leave the Residence around 730. She did not eat breakfast. By her own accounts: she felt fine until she got to the Forum around which time she felt a little dizzy, but not more than she thought a few deep breaths could calm. The next thing she knew--after things started to fade in and out--she was looking up to the sky with someone blotting the blood off of her forehead. By my accounts, she was fine until I watched her (in movie-like slow motion) fall to the ground--her forehead breaking her fall on the Forum stones. She regained consciousness, her color, and her humor within a minute of falling. But her forehead had a Harry-Potter-esque scar about her left eye. The ambulance came and I went with her (having been in Rome before, and being an old friend from back home). I walked her into the Pronto Soccorso (ER), completely calm since I have worked now for some time in a hospital myself--Thank God for that. And then waited until the director of Student Affair arrived, and we then sat together in the waiting room until my friend was released...perfectly fine is a little embarassed by the Frankenstein-style patch job the surgeon did.

Now, a few words on the Pronto Soccorso. (1) Italy has socialized health. Now, say what you will, but my friend paid not a dime for what she received: ambulance, X-Ray, CATscan, stitches, insulin (after she passed out a second time; even though she told them she was really hungry and was feeling light headed because of it, they still did not give her anything until she passed out again in the ER), nothing. Also, their first question was what is you name, and that was it. They then wheeled her in and treated her. She didn't have to wait to be questioned, the wait to be Triaged, the wait for treatment. And never was she asked for an insurance card. (2) For being an ER, it was fairly orderly, and quite clean. (3) She was a little nervous since (even with head gash) she had to play a bit of interpreter, since the doctor knew enough words of English to let her know what was going on, but not enough to really converse with her. For example, she was asked, "Is. it. possible. if you are...um...maybe, how you say? with child?" Her answer, "Wha...oh...no, I'm not pregnant, but thanks for asking." Not that any of us ever expect to have English spoken, but I know the hospital I work for has translators available since in times of crisis and trauma one usually reverts (if not voluntarily) to one's native tongue. Ah well.

Anyway, she is now fine and is having her stitches removed on Tuesday. She's a little black and blue and still has a bit of an all-over headache, but she's just fine--and in perfectly fine spirits.

Just a bit about the excitement of the last week!

Ciao!
RomanTraveller