HOSPITAL A&E IN SOUTHERN ITALY.
October 17th, 2016.
HOSPITAL A&E VISIT – IN MATERA WHILE ON HOLIDAY
(APOLOGIES THAT BECAUSE OF THE NATURE OF THIS POST, THERE ARE NO PICTURES.
WE HOPE THAT THE CONTENT ALONE WILL INTEREST YOU.)
Any hospital A&E (Accident and Emergency Dept.) is not that place one wants to be when on holiday, and in another country it can be intimidating. Here is my account of my brush with the Italian medical system:
We visited the General Hospital in Matera – La Ospitale Madonna della Grazie, Matera.
FROM A NEWS BULLETIN: BASILICATA
A new hospital for Matera and its province. The hospital in Matera is now so run-down and inadequate that the inhabitants of the town and province have been having to seek treatment in hospitals of other regions, especially in the province of Bari. This state of affairs has led to the building of a new hospital complex which will be equipped with the latest technology. The building will be divided into three wings, covering 75,000 m² in all. There will be 10 wards for a total of 28 operational units and 530 beds, 94 of which will be run as a day hospital.
LET ME EXPLAIN THAT I HAVE SINCE LEARNED THAT AT THAT TIME (2016) IT HAD APPLIED FOR REFURBISHMENT. HOPEFULLY THIS IS WELL UNDERWAY FOR WHEN MATERA BECOMES EUROPEAN CAPITAL OF CULTURE IN 2019.
I NOTICE A LUMP
I cannot now remember when I noticed a small, hard lump in my left calf, but it must have been around this date. It did not go away, and when Giuseppe felt it he insisted on taking us to the A&E in Matera.
That was an experience I will not easily forget. It may prove interesting to compare the Italian Health System with our English NHS:
So far, it appears, that once Brexit happens we may still have the advantage of EU Health Care cards to flourish in front of hospital receptionists in the twenty-seven other countries in EU. But this could change, of course. If this great advantage is withdrawn later, only Heaven knows the likely future costs to travelling Brits of falling ill while abroad in Europe. The site you need is:- (LINK) Do use the .org.uk site. Other sites charge for the privilege of supplying the card.
A&E – WHERE TO PARK?
Firstly, Graham could find absolutely nowhere to park, as the road above the steep incline down to the hospital was jam-packed with parked vehicles, as was the winding road down. Graham dropped us off by the main entrance to the ‘Emergencia Ospitale’, then drove slowly on to discover that there was a many-tiered car park built up on the hillside.
A&E – A LONG WAIT? – THE ‘ALLORA’ SHRUG
Giuseppe led me into a smart reception hall, and was soon flirting with the very pretty girl on the desk. “I was at school with her,” he told me. I found that hard to believe – she looked much younger than 39. I cannot remember if there was a lift, but in the event we climbed several stairs, emerging through double doors into a rather shabby, not apparently pristinely clean waiting area.
A&E – WOULD I RECOGNISE MY NAME WHEN CALLED?
There were rows of seats, mostly occupied by women and children, and elderly men. We had to go quite a way down a corridor to find one for me. I was anxious that we would not hear my name called.
It was all a far cry from the NHS. People strolled around, talking loudly to each other and on their mobile phones. Children ran around or played stepping games like ‘Mr Wolf’ with their parents. This did not altogether surprise us, as we had found it true that Italians adore children and parents include them in almost all their activities. We saw, in restaurants, family parties eating very late in the evenings; and a lot of outdoor festivals can last until midnight, with even the youngest children wide awake and participating fully.
WHY DON’T WE TAKE SANDWICHES INTO A&E?
As time went on packets of sandwiches were brought out, and even flasks of coffee. There was a machine selling small bottles of water, but that was it, unless you had someone to nip downstairs to the canteen on the ground floor, which had a better machine, and a few (mainly cake-y) snacks.
I cannot recall if smoking was allowed – probably not; but I was amazed to see folk calmly strolling into the wards or a doctor’s office, even around 10.30 in the morning. It was only after about 90 minutes that I realised this last was in fact, a ‘triage’ facility, where you were assessed for treatment. You did not have a form, or wait to be called; you just walked in.
A&E – HAD THEY FORGOTTEN US?
From time to time various nurses would appear and names were called. People peeled off after them in various directions. Graham, getting weary of waiting, grabbed one of them, and was directed to a desk in a corridor. A young lady who spoke English manned it. He explained how to pronounce our surname – USS-sher, thinking that maybe that was a stumbling block. She said ‘No – it was just a case of waiting our turn.’
A&E – A DOCTOR – AT LAST
After four-and-a-half hours we were ushered into a room with a young woman doctor. She gave me a very thorough examination, and sent me for a local x-ray, (another floor and another wait).
I AM SOMEWHAT EMBARRASSED
This was manned by two middle-aged men. No female nurse was present. I found it a quite embarrassing experience. Not only were these two totally lacking in the famous Latin Lover charm usual in southern Italian men; they were positively brusque with me.
In front of these strangers (and Graham and Giuseppe) I was curtly ordered to strip down to my panties. I hoped despairingly that no pubic hair was visible, or the pad I wore against possible accidents due to coughing, sneezing, laughing: (Or in this case, an unendurable wait). I yearned for the efficiency and consideration of our NHS.
I GET TUMMY-PIERCINGS
I was returned to the kind doctor (after three days, and another three-and-a-half hour wait). She prescribed antibiotics, and four days with legs up. (I stayed in bed and wrote notes for this account, and also read to pass the time; but it was tedious.) She also gave Graham a prescription for syringes, and a serum he must inject into my stomach each day. I must also wear tight support stockings all day every day (for the rest of my life, she said. Phooey to that, but I did wear them until my ‘signing off’ before leaving Basilicata.) I guess she didn’t want to admit me as an ‘in-patient’ on their books – and neither did I!
GRAHAM EXPLAINS – THE PROCESS WITH PRESCRIPTIONS
Before Graham could take the prescriptions to a pharmacy he had to find an obscure address on the outskirts of the city, and there go into lengthy explanations.
I hand over to him to describe his experience:
Hi! Graham here:
I HIT THE LANGUAGE BARRIER
Getting the drugs, needles and syringes was more complicated than I had imagined. Firstly, after leaving the hospital all the people I needed to speak to could not speak English. Despite three months ‘learning’ Italian, my grasp of the language was less than basic; in any event, no natives of Basilicata seemed to understand my attempts.
What I also didn’t realise was that I was being sent to a place where someone would sign an authorisation allowing me to have the drugs; though this was not where I would eventually get them.
DOWN AMONG THE DRUG ADDICTS
The building I had been directed to turned out to be where drug addicts go to get their fixes. I was let in through a security door by a guard.
Luckily, while in the waiting room I was on my own. The place was pretty daunting, with bars at all the doors and windows. I was eventually ushered in to see a very young doctor. As you can imagine, this took ages, as he had no English and my Italian was limited. After some verbal acrobatics on both our parts, I was told he could not help me! I needed to see a senior colleague. He would be at another clinic – in another part of town, later that day.
MORE GUARDS – MORE BARRED WINDOWS
The next place I went to was almost opposite Matera’s Railway Station. It was on the ground floor of a shabby-looking block of flats. This area, like the first I had visited, had bars at the doors and windows and a security guard at the door. My admittance was much easier than the first time. It seemed that the nice young doctor had rung ahead and told them to expect me.
A WARM WELCOME – AN ITALIAN BEAUTY – EASY MONEY
As soon as I opened my mouth the guard gave me a broad smile.
“Tu Inglese!” he exclaimed, and opened the door wide. Within a few moments I was escorted into a shabby office and introduced to the doctor, who turned out to be a dazzlingly beautiful young woman in her mid-twenties. She quickly read the document I gave her, along with my passport and Jackie’s EU health card. With a flourish she signed it, and asked for 25€. I was later to find out that this was her fee for signing the prescription, and not the cost of the drugs.
WHAT COMES NEXT? WHERE DO I GET THE MEDICINES?
I stood there with the prescription in my hand. What came next? She just waved a hand at me. “Tu vai.”
“Who gives me the drugs?”
She frowned then seemed to comprehend. “Ah, La Farmacia.”
“Which one?” She shrugged her shoulders then scribbled a name on a piece of paper and gave it to me.
Great. I could now at last pick up the medicines and get back to Jackie – and cook a meal for us both.
IN SOUTHERN ITALY IT AIN’T THAT SIMPLE
My troubles were over, I thought with relief.
Not so:
When I finally found the pharmacy ,it was closed – and wouldn’t be open for another of couple of hours. So I ‘phoned Giuseppe and asked him to tell Jackie I would stay in Matera until they opened. I then took off to look at a few more places of interest. When I went back they told me they didn’t have the drug. It would be available in a couple of days.
NOT FOR THE FIRST TIME – A SCHOOLGIRL COMES TO MY RESCUE
Luckily they had a schoolgirl helping out. She, at least, happened to have good English. Through her I was able to tell them I needed the drug urgently. Was there any way I could get it quicker?
The Pharmacist raised his hand.
“Uno momento.” He picked up a telephone and made several calls; each totally incomprehensible to my ears. Beside me the young girl stay silent, smiling at me. I raised an enquiring eyebrow.
“Signor, he is ringing round other shops in Matera to see if anyone stocks it.” Suddenly he triumphantly put down the phone and gabbled out to something to the girl.
MORE EXPENSE
That was how I finally got Jackie’s medicene. Oh, I also had to pay about 75€ for THAT, on top of the Prescription signature charged by the glamourpuss doctor. Needless to say, I never claimed this money back once we were finally back home in England in December. Take it as my contribution to a continuing EU.
Jackie again:
I SWELL LIKE A BALLOON
When it was obvious that the tummy injections were causing me to swell like a balloon I decided to drop them, and I was fine thereafter. I had to go back to be checked just before we left the area. The nice lady doctor signed me off, with a sheet to give to my own doctor when I returned in December.
A DRAMATIC BLACK SPOT
The sheet had a dramatic black spot, showing the lump that the x-ray had detected. The lump had shrunk since then, and was almost gone when I was examined when back home.
I was very grateful for the good treatment I had received, despite all the waits and running around that Giuseppe, Graham and I had endured…
Text by – Jackie Usher, SWWJ. (aka author Debbie Darkin, & ‘Graham Liverpool’ on Trip Advisor.)
Design by – Graham Usher.
