RESTLESS NATIVE:Still resting, just a little home sick

Everyone wants to finish their great vacations with a bang, with something that can last them for a week or two after they’ve returned home and gone back to work; something to keep that travel spirit alive after the jet lag has faded.

Let me just throw this one out here now. How do tonsillitis and two trips to the hospital (and possibly a blood test and injections to follow) stand as the perfect souvenir? Hmmm, what to get, what to get. The “I heart Napoli” shirt or the futile standoff with my fear of needles? Tough choice, but I think I’ll take the T-shirt.

It all started last Thursday when I started to feel the beginnings of a sore throat. Since I’ve already been sick three times this summer (don’t you just love living with a few hundred people for four months) and each time involved a sore throat, I figured it was the usual and pulled out the remaining cold pills and throat spray. Flash-forward to Saturday when my throat was so swollen I could barely swallow and white spots on my tonsils spelled out, “Hi there, neighbor.” I got up that morning, made breakfast and when my manager arrived he took one glance with a flashlight and said he’d take me to the emergency room. Normally I would do anything to avoid such a trip, but even I knew that this wasn’t going to get better on its own.

One very sweet thing did happen before we left, however. That morning my manager had brought his son with him to work, and as I was getting ready to leave, this little boy came up to me and asked where I was going. I told him that I needed to go to the hospital.

He told me about his own trip to the emergency room, earlier that summer, and even showed me the medicine the doctor had given him for his allergies. As he reached into his little satchel, he described how he had gotten very hungry while waiting for his doctor. With that, he produced a little packet of crackers, which he gave to me, in case I got hungry waiting for the doctor too. It just about melted my heart!

The three of us arrived at the hospital and I was quite surprised by how short a wait I had to endure before seeing the doctor — 15 minutes tops. Of course my manager did all the translating. I was even more surprised by how quickly the exam was given. The doctor used a tongue depressor and a flashlight to get a good view, and a few seconds later she turned away to write down her diagnosis and my prescriptions. Of course, I was pretty much lost at this point (most of my knowledge of Italian went on hiatus the moment I entered the hospital), and the brief exam left me hopeful. Maybe it was nothing after all.

That’s how I felt until I heard the diagnosis and prescribed treatment: tonsillitis, pills and shots. Really, I only needed to hear that last word, “shots,” to come apart. But thankfully, they don’t give you the shots right there and then; that happens on another visit. My manager, instead, took me across the street to the local pharmacy to fill my prescriptions and talk the pharmacist into looking for a pill alternative to the shots. Thankfully, he found one!

Three days later, my sore throat had ceased to be sore, but the white spots had multiplied and changed their message to “heck no, we won’t go.” Hence, trip No. 2 to the hospital.

This time Renato accompanied me and my new doctor manhandled my neck before going with the tongue depressor. New diagnosis: tonsillitis or possibly mononucleosis. Prescribed treatment: blood test (to rule out mono), a shot every day for a week and more antibiotics. Thank goodness I had Renato with me! He acted as my new translator and my pillar of strength. Of course the mono aspect meant we were in this together, though I was certain I hadn’t caught anything from him and despite the fact that mono is often referred to as “the kissing disease,” these lips have been loyal.

We decided to go to a clinic the next day to have our blood tested. Early the next morning, I got up to catch a train to meet Renato in his hometown. This small part of my day was educational because I had to run five blocks to get to the station on time. What did I learn you might ask? If I can run five blocks, I don’t have mono.

I met up with Renato and we rode a borrowed Vespa to a nearby clinic. Unfortunately (or perhaps fortunately for my nerves), this clinic was closed and we drove on to another in a neighboring town. In our second attempt, we were met with two roadblocks. The first being two traffic officers monitoring the road into town. Since we only had one helmet between us, Renato and I had to do a little scheming. I got off the Vespa and walked past the two officers while Renato, wearing the helmet, rode by. We regrouped a short distance down the road and, at an even shorter distance, arrived at the second clinic.

Road block No. 2: Though the clinic was open, they stop taking blood by 10 a.m. and we arrived at 10:10. I guess I dodged another bullet.

The whole day wasn’t a loss however. Not only did I have a lot of fun riding around on the Vespa with Renato (I can’t remember that last time I was outside that early in the morning — the cool air was so refreshing), but we also took a trip to Pompeii later that afternoon and reminisced about the day we met.

Everyone at the hostel has been very supportive about my health too. Of course, my manager is a complete superstar, but all of the staff, including the building’s handy man, have been asking me how I feel and if I have eaten recently (my antibiotics have to be taken with food).

As far as the blood test goes, Renato and I are prepared for another trip to the clinic in two days unless the white spots finally send up a white flag. I remain hopeful. Whatever I’ve got, I’m sure it will be gone by the time I get home and my Napoli shirt will prove to be the lasting souvenir. Again, I remain hopeful.

Ciao ragazzi!