Travel Reference
In-Depth Information
Hospitalization
O k, I'll admit it right from the outset: the whole issue of medical care while living in Italy
is something that gave us pause for thought. No, actually, the truth is that sometimes it kept
us up at nights, both before moving to Italy and after. What if something terrible happened
and we needed urgent medical care? Would we trust a local hospital to put us back together
again? Should we get medivac insurance, and if so, where in the world would we want a
helicopter to take us while some medic administered first aid?
Our first trip to the Siena hospital was during the summer 1999, the year we bought our
home in Tuscany. I was at the Bank of Monteriggione speaking with a loan officer in his of-
fice about variable, fixed and convertible loans when a bank clerk entered abruptly and said
that my wife was here and needed to see me. My first uncharitable response was something
along the lines of “What could she possibly want while I'm trying to nail down a loan?” I
saw her standing by the entrance holding our two-year-old, Siena, in her arms. I was about
to say something when she turned toward me, and I saw Siena's bloodied face.
“What happened?”
“We were at the playground and I was pushing Siena on a swing. She was enjoying it, and
then all of a sudden she just let go.”
“I guess she wanted to find out what would happen if she let go. Now she knows.”
That's my daughter. I only hope she exhibits more caution during her teenage years. I ask at
the bank if there is a clinic in town. They say there is, but it is only open on Monday and
Thursday mornings. They suggest that we check out the pharmacy. The pharmacist takes a
look at her and says we should go right away to Pronto Soccorso at the hospital in Siena.
Pronto Soccorso means First Aid but it's the equivalent of our Emergency Room. “Just fol-
low the signs once you get to the hospital. You can't miss it.”
On the way to the hospital I was cursing the stupidity of the town for putting loose gravel
under a swing set. Back in California, the parks had rubberized mats under the swings, mon-
key bars and all the rest. I wasn't expecting all that in small town Italy, but grass or plain old
dirt would have been just fine. Now we had bits of gravel to pick out of our daughter's face.
Sure enough, we found the hospital, we found Pronto Soccorso , we found the parking lot.
We paid $.75 to enter and park for 45 minutes. Paid parking at the emergency room was
about as goofy a thing as I had ever seen in my life, but in we went. They took a look at us,
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