Hospitalization - Turning Tuscan: A Step-by-Step Guide to Going Native - page 184

Heleansin,helooksrightathim,andhelistens.There'snovaguenoddingwithaclipboard
in hand. He listens, his associate writes, the man tells his story. From the directness and
intensity of the listening, the man understands immediately: you can leave out complaints
and sidebars: cut to the chase and let me know what really concerns you.
Questions follow. More details are gathered. The essence of it is that the man has already
had his surgery along with the follow-up tests that confirm everything is fine, and he
doesn't want to go through them all again. On the other hand, he has had a couple episodes
of passing chest pains that worry him. If everything's okay, like the tests say, why do I get
these chest pains that scare the hell out of me?
I watch the doctor sift and weigh. He walks a few steps, looks out the window for a mo-
ment, then walks back. You can see him thinking with the whole of his being as he ponders
all the variables and considers the right course of action. Despite the years of medical train-
ing, his head has remained firmly connected to his heart, and his feet are firmly planted on
the ground. He shifts now to the informal tu in addressing his patient.
“Fantini, listen. I understand that you don't want to repeat tests that you've already done.
But you came all the way up here because you're not a hundred percent sure about those
tests. Before we send you home, we need to see things with our own eyes. At a minimum
we need to do another coronography. Then we can tell you for sure that everything's okay.
There's no other way. Do you understand?”
“ Si, capito. Grazie, Dottore.”
The procedure is scheduled for the next day. My neighbor, Salvatore, has peace of mind
and can also explain the whys and wherefores to his wife and daughter when they come to
visit him later.
***
One of the interesting consequences of the complete lack of privacy and the frank, open
doctor talk, is that after a couple of days, we all become familiar with the details of one
another's medical situations. We're like bunkmates, shipmates, cellmates. No one's going
anywhere fast. The days are long. Everyone tells his story:
“I was delivering a truckload of water for a swimming pool near Buonconvento when I got
a pain in my chest. It was so intense that I had to sit down. After a few minutes it passed,
so I went back to refill and dropped off the second load. Nothing else happened until I got
home and then I got another pain. So, I called 118 and they told me to have someone drive