I returned to Rome, after my country work yesterday with itchy eyes, a sore throat and a cough which has been lingering. Maybe lugging the heavy marble rocks, and the frequent weeding took its toll, in spite of the lovely food and fresh air activities. As we only have a few days before we fly to France, I decided to get medical advice.
In most hospitals in Italy tourists can go to the outpatients and see a doctor free of charge. I walked down to an Ospedale in Trastevere at 8am, and found where to go. A woman got me to fill in a half page of info, then told me where to sit down and wait. There were lots of different uniformed types standing around looking glamorous, texting or drinking tiny coffees.
A young, good-looking guy came in and dropped his bag off, then popped outside for a cigarette. He was having an animated conversation on his mobile. I'd decided he was the doctor, as the staff seemed to defer to him. I couldn't get what his phone call was about, but I hoped it was something like:
"We must act quickly and help this tourist, her condition is deteriorating! Pull out all the stops, spare no expense, so we can get her back to good health!"
But I suspect it was something more like this:
"Yes, Mama, I got here okay. I did have breakfast - it was a coffee. No thanks I will be warm enough, I wore my jacket. No, of course I'm not smoking..."
I only had to wait 30 minutes; not bad apparently, even though I was the only one waiting. The smoker/doctor looked at my throat, took my temperature, listened to my chest and refused to give me antibiotics. His English was as bad as my Italian. Didn't seem to want to look at my eyes or ears. Then he prescribed three things which I went and collected, for about 30 euro. Some sort of fizzy sachet drink, a weird tasting throat spray and some eye drops.
I got home about 9am, and my daughter was very surprised to see me back so soon. She'd thought it would take me hours. The only problem was trying to translate the complicated looking instructions in Italian on the packets.
Feeling better already.
Lizzie
A young, good-looking guy came in and dropped his bag off, then popped outside for a cigarette. He was having an animated conversation on his mobile. I'd decided he was the doctor, as the staff seemed to defer to him. I couldn't get what his phone call was about, but I hoped it was something like:
"We must act quickly and help this tourist, her condition is deteriorating! Pull out all the stops, spare no expense, so we can get her back to good health!"
But I suspect it was something more like this:
"Yes, Mama, I got here okay. I did have breakfast - it was a coffee. No thanks I will be warm enough, I wore my jacket. No, of course I'm not smoking..."
I only had to wait 30 minutes; not bad apparently, even though I was the only one waiting. The smoker/doctor looked at my throat, took my temperature, listened to my chest and refused to give me antibiotics. His English was as bad as my Italian. Didn't seem to want to look at my eyes or ears. Then he prescribed three things which I went and collected, for about 30 euro. Some sort of fizzy sachet drink, a weird tasting throat spray and some eye drops.
Feeling better already.
Lizzie
Enjoyed that Elizabeth - very witty!
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