Venice Hospital - You Suck

I was just going to do a post on Facebook, but figured this might be a little bit lengthy.  I’m resting in bed, listening to my stomach grumble and telling it to be quiet, enough already!  I do feel much better, not nearly as weak and first day of no diarrhea, so be quiet stomach!  

 

Let me get to the end of the story (no pun intended).  We had one day left in Venice, Italy.  Instead of staying in Venice though, having spent the better part of a week there (with jumps to nearby islands, Murano and Burano), the 8 of us (my parents, my brother, sister-in-law, nephew, Greg, Gregory and me :) opted to go to the nearest inland city, Verona.  

 

Early on the last vacation day in Italy, we took a long walk (not unusual in Venice) to the boat stop, took a boat ride and then took an hour train ride to get to Verona from Venice.  Then, walked from the train station to go to the nearest attraction.  Rob said, “We were THAT close to getting there (first attraction).”  But my mom wasn’t feeling well and asked to stop at a park bench...

 

Within minutes, she passed out.  Like out cold.  Thankfully she was on the bench and didn’t fall to the ground.  But she didn’t come to right away.  She was like OUT out.  We couldn’t tell if she was still breathing OUT.  We were all screaming!  "MOM!  MOM!  HELP, SOMEONE HELP!"  Mom’s eyes were open; her pupils were huge; she was non-responsive; she was limp.  It was terrifying.  

 

Roda pulled Mom’s jacket off, taking her pulse and preparing to start CPR.  Greg ran to the closest shop (flower shop) and was able to find out that Italy’s 911 number is 118.  Three other Italian guys ran over and helped us translate to the 118 operator.  The ambulance was dispatched.  In the meantime, Rob was running to another store to get something with sugar in case it was Mom’s sugar level per Roda’s instructions.

 

Before it arrived, my mom came to.  She was confused and didn’t remember passing out.  Greg had a list of words for her to repeat for any sign of stroke.  She repeated them, no problem.  Then she threw up, violently.  All over everything, her jacket, clothes, shoes.  She was cold, so Greg gave her his jacket and went looking for cloths for her at one of the street vendors.

 

She said she felt better after throwing up, then threw up again.  When the EMT guys showed up, Roda told them to take her blood pressure and sugar levels, both came back normal.  Mom insisted she was better.  They had her sign a form saying they wouldn’t be held responsible, because she didn’t want to go to the hospital.

 

Mom wanted us to continue on with the site seeing, but there was no way we were leaving her.  They don’t have uber in Verona.  But they do have cabs, very aggressive cab drivers.  We made it back to the train station... on the train ride back to Venice, mom threw up repeatedly.  She was so weak that we had to stop at a table in the Venice train station.

 

Greg and Rob offered money to a guy at the boat launch if he could use the luggage carrier to carry mom to a private boat to get her to the hotel and he agreed, but by the time they made it back to the table where we were, mom was throwing up repeatedly again.  

 

Gregory had his iphone out, my sweet 10 year old son.. he already had 118 dialed on it.  Rob said to bring mom to the hotel.  Roda insisted that mom go to the hospital where they could give her a shot for nausea, because we were flying out tomorrow morning.  The call to 118 was made and the Venice ambulance/boat arrived.  They took mom, refusing to allow anyone else on the boat and wrote down where we had to go to get to the hospital.  

 

It took us a long time to get there and then we were told that only one person could stay in the waiting room.  Dad was not going to allow anyone but himself to be the option.  We were in communication with Dad throughout the day and evening and asking questions, but the hospital couldn’t tell us anything other than, “She hasn’t seen a doctor yet.”  Hours and hours went by, still nothing.  

 

We called the hospital and explained that my mom is visually impaired and she needs assistance, that my Dad needs to be there to help her.  We asked for an update.  They could only say she hasn’t seen a doctor.

 

Dad said, “They aren’t telling me shit!  They won’t let me give her a cell phone to communicate with me!  They won’t let me see her!”  His worry and their inability to share her condition or let him see her made all sorts of worse case scenarios come to mind.

 

It didn’t help that when the doctor came out after Dad yelling that he needed answers, the doctor yelled back, “You want to know how your wife is doing!  She’s in HORRIBLE condition!  HORRIBLE!”  Dad was calling us, just as Rob arrived to bring Dad things he needed.  I heard Rob say, “Security is here.”  Dad said, “I don’t give a flying fuck!  They know how I feel!  They can all go to hell!  They tell me that they don’t speak English but they understood when we first came in and now they won’t tell me anything!”  It was bad.  We saw Mom in such a state that Roda was ready to do CPR and now we aren’t being told anything and not allowed to give her access to communicate either.

 

Rob was calm and he took Dad’s cell phone with him.  He walked up to the reception area and said he needed to see my mom.  They walked him back and he kept the cell phone.  I can’t describe the relief I felt to see mom on Facetime.  She was alive!  She was sitting up, but her voice was nearly gone from being sick so often.  She was asking for water and said nobody would give her anything and they wouldn’t talk to her or tell her anything, that they just stuck her four times in both arms and hurt her.

 

Gregory was on his bed, but when he heard Oma’s voice, he leapt clear across his bed and over to ours to see Oma on Facetime.  He was so worried, but staying calm.  We all needed to see her, but especially Dad.  

 

Dad was able to Facetime with Mom and she kept the phone.  They kept her at the hospital, waiting for test results.  Dad said, “She’s NOT staying here.  They can’t keep her against her will and she wants to leave!”  

 

The test results came back, I guess whatever they were looking for it was negative.  She was allowed to leave.  There’s a boat launch right next to the hospital, which is how she arrived.  The hotel had given the information for a private boat to take her from the hospital directly to the hotel.  But the hospital refused to allow her to use the wheelchair to go around the hospital to the launch.  She had to Walk all the way around, 30 minute walk to someone feeling weak is cruel.  How they treated my parents is cruel.  The only positive thing is that she did get the shot to help with nausea after my mom INSISTED that she get the shot.

 

It was this experience with the hospital that I swore off International Flights for my future.  Yes, I know you can get sick anywhere or not at all on a vacation.  Yes, you can get poor treatment at a hospital in the States too.  (But even when there was Covid restrictions and my dad had a life-threatening reason to be taken into the hospital in the States a few years ago, my parents were able to communicate with one another.  We were able to get doctors and nurses to respond to us in a caring manner. THAT’S the difference.)

 

It was almost midnight by the time Mom got back to the hotel from the hospital in Venice.  We had to get up early, take a boat ride to the airport, then a van ride to the upper portion of the airport.  My parents were given wheelchairs.  We had assistance.  My mom said, “I’m being treated better at the airport than I was at the hospital!”  (It’s days later and Mom still has massive bruises on both arms where they had to do multiple attempts to get blood work taken.)

 

The first flight was a short one, but it ended on the Turkish airport tarmac.  There was a huge flight of stairs to walk down, which my parents could not do.  They ushered the rest of us into a bus.  I wanted to jump off the bus to make sure my parents were okay, but Greg stopped me.  He said, “Look, they are being taken off of the airplane by the lift from the airport truck.”  Like luggage.

 

We get to the airport, trying to figure out where to go... we were dropped off at Gate B and had to get to Gate D.  This airport was HUGE and beautiful, but no time to shop or look around.  Our second flight was about to take off.  We ran, literally and arrived in time, sweating, looking for my parents.  We had to go through another check point inside the Gate. Men were in one line and women were in another line.  

 

Greg said, “Ya’ll are being really thorough about checking everything.”  Checking all bags, patting us down, the works.  The Turkish airline representative replied, “We don’t normally do a check at the gates here, but we are because of a BOMB threat.”  W... T.... F...... now my heart is racing for another reason.

 

My parents arrived just a few minutes later.  When they tried to separate my parents, my dad was refusing; he was not going to let someone else take his wife away from him like they did at the hospital.  I took mom’s hand and said, “Mom, I’m here.”  I put my other hand on Dad’s arm and said, “Dad, it’s okay.  I’ve got Mom.  They are just doing a check.  I’ve got Mom.  It’s okay.”  He focused on me and went calm.  The rep said, “It’s okay, just take her in.”

 

This was the long flight and I couldn’t sleep.  Between worrying about Mom, the bomb threat and the bumpy turbulence with flight attendants saying, “Tighten your belts!”.... I was awake.  I didn’t know that around this time, Dad started to vomit.

 

When we finally arrived back in the States, I was joyful.  It was Atlanta, Georgia, but it was still home.  My parents still had wheelchairs and they had help, from customs to getting our luggage.  We got a cab to Rob and Roda’s house.  Dad was sick, the entire time, much like Mom’s condition in Verona and Venice.  

 

It was late, but I went to sleep... and woke up at 4am.... vomit and diarrhea at the same time.  I didn’t know Dad was up most of the time with the same.... and Gregory followed suit at 5am.  TJ had issues with vomiting for most of the night and Mom said Rob wasn’t feeling well either.  Roda had mild diarrhea but she thinks it was from stress.  Greg said he was fine.  He wanted to get home.  I felt like my body was glued to the bed unless I was running for the toilet.  

 

Greg did eventually drive us home.  Gregory did get sick in the car.  I was feeling sick, but drinking water and not eating anything helped.  We were a gross, hot mess of a family.  When we got home, Greg said, “I’m the champion!  I’m the only one who didn’t get sick!”

 

But he spoke too soon.  The next day he was running a fever and had cold chills and diarrhea.  Fortunately, it was over for him quickly.  Gregory and TJ recovered well too.  Dad and I both thought we were getting better, then it hit us all over again.

 

When Mom heard everything that happened and how upset Dad was at the hospital, how worried and livid.... she said, “It didn’t help you to get that upset, Lester.”  I said, “Yes and no.  If Dad didn’t get that upset, then they wouldn’t have allowed Rob to see you, being that he was calm.  Dad didn’t get upset until after he had been there for a long time, with no answers or communication being allowed.  If Dad had remained calm, you might still be in the hospital.”

 

We are much better now.  I’m writing this to get it out of my system.  Now I feel like I can go back and look at the pictures.  I know we had a fantastic trip.  I just needed to get the negative out and over.  

 

I am grateful my Mom is doing much better.  I’m grateful we are all recovering.  I’m grateful to be home.  I'm grateful my stomach is quiet now.