Italian Health Care II
No photos with this one. I had some gastrointestinal problems recently, and this was followed by severe pain in my left shoulder. After trying simply rest and pain killers for two days, I decided it was time to see a doctor. I could not sleep, had a hard time eating, and could not get comfortable. In my worst imaginings, I thought it might be a precursor to a heart attack, or a small stroke, or some other fatal attraction. The saner part of me thought it might be just sever inflammation, curable with a steroid and pain reliever shot. Even with 600 mg ibuprofen, the pain was insufferable. So finally, I called my friend Dr. Rino Marinello and made an appointment to see him at the emergency room in Sciacca.
The triage nurse took care of me at 2 p.m., and within five minutes I was in an examination room with Dr. Marinello and a nurse. The took blood, ran an electrocardiogram, and wheeled me out to radiology for x rays. Then I had to wait two hours for the results of the blood work. While I waited, my ibuprofen wore off, so when they came to get me to take me to cardiology, I was in severe pain. The hospital was warm, I was sweating, the pain was giving me a fever, so the assistant, after taking a good look at me, took me back to the examining room, where Dr. Marinello made the current patient leave, made me lie down on the bed, started an IV with saline solution and a mild pain reliever, gave me another ecg, and sent me off to cardiology, this time on a gurney. His face when I entered clearly showed his concern.
At cardiology, I was given four more ecgs, as well as an eccocardiogram (I enjoyed watching my heart pump). While my heart looked strong, the cardiologists worried that the left arm pain might be a precursor to a heart attack, so they recommended I stay under observation for another twelve hours. I was given a bed in one of the emergency room bedrooms. There were two other patients in the room when I arrived, both very old women who looked near the end of life. Their daughters complained that I, as a man, should not be allowed to share a room with two helpless women. They were overruled. Dinner came, and one of the old women refused her dinner, and it was given to me. The daughter complained, so another dinner was brought. The old woman refused again, so of course the daughter ate it. Later, her mother checked out of the room in the only way possible for her. May she rest in peace.
It was rather amusing to see the two daughters operate. When a pillow was brought in for me, I was not quick enough to grab it, so a daughter grabbed it so she could use it as she slept on a cot next to her mother. A man was rolled in on a bed with a big blanket (brought from home, it had his name on it.) One of the women tried to take that, but was stopped by the man's son. It was really pretty funny to watch, and I really did not mind missing the pillow for the amusement value.
Then Crash McCall, who seems to want to try out for the Nascar circuit, came in. He was big and strapping, and rolled me back to cardiology for another ekg and ecg. He managed to bump into every doorway with the gurney I was on, and I would not have believed it possible, but he managed to hit one doorway four times. But we went through the hallways fast, and the turns caused a bit of vertigo.
Anyway, nothing new in cardiology, so back to radiology, four more ex rays, and up to orthopedics, where I was finally diagnosed with severe inflammation and given a shot of steroids and pain killers by Dr. Drago. Then down to see the ER Doctor who replaced Dr. Marinello on the late shift. Dr. Mancuso (that's right, but when I told him that Fran Mancuso had been my wife, he mumbled that there are a lot of Mancuso's in Sicily) told me that there were two divergent opinions. Drago had made a diagnosis, treated me, and said I could be released. The cardiologist wanted to keep me until 4 AM. It was now 10 PM. I opted to stay. They took more blood, another ecg, and sent me back to my room. At midnight, they had replaced the woman who had died with another patient, there was a man on a gurney in the room, and another man in a wheelchair. Dr. Mancuso wanted to see me. The results of the blood tests indicated that I probably was not going to have a heart attack, and suggested I sign myself out. I did, went home, and a combination of Dr. Drago's shot and some ibuprofen allowed me to sleep peacefully.
When I registered with the triage nurse, he needed only my name, date of birth, place of birth, and place of residence. That was all. He did not even want to see my Italian health care card. All of the care, 5 xrays, countless ecgs, an ekg, blood work, pain killers, steroids, orthopedic consult, all were without cost to me. I think of a friend who went to the emergency room for GI problems in the states. Because there had been a one month lapse in his health insurance, the same company who had insured him previously and was insuring him again refused to pay the $12,000 bill because it was a preexisting condition.
Yes, it took me twelve hours to get out of the hospital, but I really want to thank Italian health care.
The triage nurse took care of me at 2 p.m., and within five minutes I was in an examination room with Dr. Marinello and a nurse. The took blood, ran an electrocardiogram, and wheeled me out to radiology for x rays. Then I had to wait two hours for the results of the blood work. While I waited, my ibuprofen wore off, so when they came to get me to take me to cardiology, I was in severe pain. The hospital was warm, I was sweating, the pain was giving me a fever, so the assistant, after taking a good look at me, took me back to the examining room, where Dr. Marinello made the current patient leave, made me lie down on the bed, started an IV with saline solution and a mild pain reliever, gave me another ecg, and sent me off to cardiology, this time on a gurney. His face when I entered clearly showed his concern.
At cardiology, I was given four more ecgs, as well as an eccocardiogram (I enjoyed watching my heart pump). While my heart looked strong, the cardiologists worried that the left arm pain might be a precursor to a heart attack, so they recommended I stay under observation for another twelve hours. I was given a bed in one of the emergency room bedrooms. There were two other patients in the room when I arrived, both very old women who looked near the end of life. Their daughters complained that I, as a man, should not be allowed to share a room with two helpless women. They were overruled. Dinner came, and one of the old women refused her dinner, and it was given to me. The daughter complained, so another dinner was brought. The old woman refused again, so of course the daughter ate it. Later, her mother checked out of the room in the only way possible for her. May she rest in peace.
It was rather amusing to see the two daughters operate. When a pillow was brought in for me, I was not quick enough to grab it, so a daughter grabbed it so she could use it as she slept on a cot next to her mother. A man was rolled in on a bed with a big blanket (brought from home, it had his name on it.) One of the women tried to take that, but was stopped by the man's son. It was really pretty funny to watch, and I really did not mind missing the pillow for the amusement value.
Then Crash McCall, who seems to want to try out for the Nascar circuit, came in. He was big and strapping, and rolled me back to cardiology for another ekg and ecg. He managed to bump into every doorway with the gurney I was on, and I would not have believed it possible, but he managed to hit one doorway four times. But we went through the hallways fast, and the turns caused a bit of vertigo.
Anyway, nothing new in cardiology, so back to radiology, four more ex rays, and up to orthopedics, where I was finally diagnosed with severe inflammation and given a shot of steroids and pain killers by Dr. Drago. Then down to see the ER Doctor who replaced Dr. Marinello on the late shift. Dr. Mancuso (that's right, but when I told him that Fran Mancuso had been my wife, he mumbled that there are a lot of Mancuso's in Sicily) told me that there were two divergent opinions. Drago had made a diagnosis, treated me, and said I could be released. The cardiologist wanted to keep me until 4 AM. It was now 10 PM. I opted to stay. They took more blood, another ecg, and sent me back to my room. At midnight, they had replaced the woman who had died with another patient, there was a man on a gurney in the room, and another man in a wheelchair. Dr. Mancuso wanted to see me. The results of the blood tests indicated that I probably was not going to have a heart attack, and suggested I sign myself out. I did, went home, and a combination of Dr. Drago's shot and some ibuprofen allowed me to sleep peacefully.
When I registered with the triage nurse, he needed only my name, date of birth, place of birth, and place of residence. That was all. He did not even want to see my Italian health care card. All of the care, 5 xrays, countless ecgs, an ekg, blood work, pain killers, steroids, orthopedic consult, all were without cost to me. I think of a friend who went to the emergency room for GI problems in the states. Because there had been a one month lapse in his health insurance, the same company who had insured him previously and was insuring him again refused to pay the $12,000 bill because it was a preexisting condition.
Yes, it took me twelve hours to get out of the hospital, but I really want to thank Italian health care.
posted by Steve at 11:17 AM
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