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| My repaired tibia. The two short screws are from a very similar break about 40 years ago. |
One of the things I'm often asked when I tell people I like to travel alone is "But what if something happens?" Well, on my trip to Europe in September, 2017, something did happen. I broke my tibia. Specifically, it was a spiral fracture of my tibia.
After three frustrating and painful days on board ship, I disembarked in Genoa, Italy. And one more time let me say "DO NOT sail on MSC!" The doctor misdiagnosed my broken leg, they offered no assistance (details like food, personal care, etc.) and after DOZENS of calls after I got home, I never received a return call. All I wanted was a refund of the hundreds of dollars I was charged on board ship for "medical care".
Anyway, I went by taxi to the public hospital in Genoa. They asked for my name and a copy of my passport when I arrived at the ortho ER but nothing else. No mention was made of payment.
I was given an x-ray, where they confirmed my leg was broken. Then a nurse shoved my leg into a temporary cast. I really do mean shoved. She was the only person during my hospital stay who made it clear she did not like Americans and seemed to delight in causing me pain. Luckily, I spent very little time with her.
After a brief consult with the female orthopedic surgeon, I was transferred by ambulance to the orthopedic wing. I'd agreed with the doctor's recommendation that I have surgery to install a plate in my leg. I was admitted on Thursday, they were booked on Friday, didn't operate on weekends so I'd be having surgery on Monday, then staying on for a few days to recover. Still no discussion of money.
I was installed in a comfortable bed in a large room. My 85 year old roommate was there for a broken hip. What I saw of the hospital and the room were what you would expect from a large hospital in the United States. It was clean and modern. Two differences, though - the staff spoke Italian and there seemed to be more of them than in an American hospital.
While there was always someone available who spoke English, there were times when I was surrounded by Italian language. Not a bad thing, since I could just be in my own world and not try to figure out what was happening around me. I did learn some Italian. "Please", "thank you" and "bed pan" were key.
After a fairly good night's sleep, I woke to what seems to be a typical morning in hospitals around the world. Lots of conversation at the nurses' station (which was just down the hall) as they changed shifts. The clanking of the cart hauling breakfast trays and sounds of visitors beginning their early arrivals.
I was surprised by a troop of medical personnel coming in to see me. There was a lot of talking, most of it in Italian. Finally, as they were wheeling me in my bed into the hall, someone explained there'd been a cancellation and I was on my way to surgery. Okey dokey, then.
I wish I had photos to explain the process of being moved from the hall into the operating room. If you've ever been to a pizza shop in Detroit it would be easier for you to imagine. There, they have a bullet proof glass wall with a slot in the bottom where they slide through the pizza. It was very similar in this case except the wall was made of metal and I was being slid through a small gap in the bottom, that closed once I was passed through. It was very disconcerting but easily done, with no effort at all on my part.
Once on the working side of the surgical suite things happened quickly. An IV was started and I was given something to relax me. I was told I'd be awake for the surgery so asked for an extra shot of the relaxation stuff. Next thing I knew, two men had turned me onto my side and were trying to curl me into a tight ball. They were loudly asking me to curl up and I was doing my best to help since I realized they were getting ready to do an epidural so I wouldn't feel anything during the surgery.
I'm not sure what they'd given me to relax me but it was working. I was doing my best to curl into a ball on my side, with the two men helping but I had a couple of problems. First was that I have large boobs. And one of the guys was determined to tuck my chin into my chest. My boobs were in the way and I felt like I was being smothered. Thanks to the really good drugs I found that very amusing, so started laughing which didn't make the "being smothered by my boobs" thing any easier. Then I started imagining people being told I was killed by my boobs, which made me laugh harder. All the while, the patient men were trying to twist me into a pretzel shape while jamming a needle the size of a straw into my spine.
I won't bore you with every detail of my hospital stay. But here are some key takeaways:
- With the exception of the unpleasant ER nurse, everyone (nurses, hospital staff, doctors, other patients and visitors) were wonderful. They were kind and helpful and went out of their way to make sure I had everything I needed.
- Hospital food stinks, except at Camillian Hospital in Bangkok. The good news was that each lunch and dinner menu offered a soft cheese (burrata, mozzarella, etc.), fresh bread and a green salad. Can't go wrong with that.
- Staff was knowledgeable and equipment was up-to-date.
I wasn't charged anything during my stay. The nurses arranged to have a hair dresser come in to give me a shampoo, which cost about 20 Euro. I treated my roommate, whose family had been wonderful to me. It boosted both our spirits.
About a month after getting home I received a bill for about $5,200 from the hospital. I immediately wired the funds for it. I later filed a claim with Humana, my medigap insurance company. They paid all but about $200 of it with no question. I was both shocked and happy.
Bottom line, the unexpected can happen when you travel. It may have caused me to miss a big portion of my planned vacation but it didn't ruin my trip. And now, my leg is just fine although I plan to continue to use it for years to come to get out of any kind of exercise.
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