It finally hit me today. I’ve been here three weeks. That’s nearly a third of my program already completed. Where did the time go? How did that happen?
I suppose I let stresses of life start to cloud my vision of the present. Things have been insane lately. But isn’t insanity inevitable? I guess I’d prefer pandemonium to boredom anyhow.
So first things first—I starting feeling a little under the weather last week. It started as a head cold, then an eye infection and came full circle with a little allergic reaction. No big deal, or so I thought. After a fairly successful attempt at communicating with the Italian pharmacists for the eye infection ointment, I thought my chances of having to reenter the tower of Babble were slim. Boy was I wrong. In fact, I had to take on the Italian emergency room. Want to talk about insanity now?
Earlier that evening, I was feeling bogged down from my cold and decided it would be a good idea to take a Nyquil and get some good rest. For most anyone else, this would be normal. For me, it was abnormal. I rarely take any sort of pain-relievers or over-the-counter medications. I am pretty particular about allowing the natural healing process to occur in my body. I don’t like using medications unless necessary, however, since I knew our study abroad program is fast-paced and draining, I wanted to get better as soon as possible—hence why I thought Nyquil could help.
Bad idea Angie. Within the first 30 minutes of taking the Nyquil, I started to have difficulty breathing. My chest was really heavy and my throat was closing up. I had no idea what was going on and continued to lay in bed thinking that it would go away with a good night’s sleep. It got more and more difficult to breathe as time went on. About an hour later I was gasping, and loudly. I kept thinking, “C’mon Nyquil...kick in already!” Little did I realize, the Nyquil had not only “kicked in,” but it had performed a full on roundhouse kick to my respiratory system.
I have a high tolerance to pain of any sort. As a diabetic, you teach yourself to be numb to it. Besides I didn’t want to draw attention to myself. It’s kind of early on the trip to be having weird freak accidents right? I didn’t want to disturb anyone else anyway. Therefore I was not about to take a breather—pun intended—to let anyone know I was having trouble. It wasn’t until I woke Kat up in the other room from my intensifying gasps. Thank goodness she’s a light sleeper! I tried to communicate with her what was going on, but the more I tried to talk, the less oxygen I could inhale, so communication was limited. I told her to call my parents (I’m hoping they’ll think this fiasco was worth the price of international calling…) and let them know what was up. They told me to go to the hospital. So we called Martin, an advisor who lives outside of Verona. He instructed me to take a taxi to the hospital and he would meet me there. Did I mention it was 1 a.m.? Embarrassing…
I went into the ER and had to try to communicate (between gasps) what was happening inside my body. The room was pretty full, so my wait time was about 2 hours. I remember it being scary to not be able to fully communicate with the doctors. I’m sure my pantomime only led to more confusion, despite my involvement in theatre in high school. By the time I was admitted to the on-call doctors, I was feeling fine. It was easier to take breaths and I was calming down. The doctors thought otherwise. My status was immediately changed from “neutro” to “emergenza.” Instead of worrying about my condition, I was too busy worrying about how I was going to make it to my train to Milan on time in the morning. I obviously spend way too much time thinking the about the next step...I mean, I'm in the hospital and my mind still can't relax!
I thought I would be freaking out as they injected me with things and started drawing blood and hooking me up to an IV, but surprisingly, I was relieved. I prefer to be very much in control of my body, my health and myself. I don’t trust many others. It takes a lot for even a hometown doctor to win me over. But for some reason, I was completely trusting of these strangers who knew nothing of my medical background or family history. They didn’t even speak the same language as me, yet I felt comfortable. Now this feeling of contentment could’ve been from whatever was in the two shots they gave me, but I like to think of it as more of an epiphany of the compassion of mankind. Despite my being foreign with swollen eye lids and less than attractive breathing patterns, these doctors felt compassion towards me. I know it is their job, but I also know they could see I was scared and wanted to make me well. We may have been lost in translation verbally, but as I’ve come to realize, the human species will never really encounter a communication barrier. We’re all alike and communication flows freely from movements, eyes, sounds, touch-- our very existence. Too deep for this early in the morning? Maybe. But it's true.
Anyway, the doctors laid me out on a stretcher and told me they had to keep me over night. I didn’t understand the severity of my condition until that point. As they rolled me into the hallway, I called my parents again. It was 4 a.m., I was in a foreign hospital, and I was all by myself.
My beautiful views for the night. They were indeed breath-taking. : )
They released me the next day and I took a cab back to my residence. From that point onward, I haven’t skipped a beat.
Remember me telling you John was coming to Italy and was going to deliver medication to me in the meantime? Yes, I make him out to sound like a drug mule, but it’s not like that. He was more of a middle-man between myself and Rite-Aid. That sounds better right? So, despite my instructions to stay home, Jared and I got on a 7 a.m. train for Milan to meet John and get a chance to meet up with two of my sorority sisters, AJ and Dorothy. It was so good to see them all! It was especially great to catch up with AJ and Dot and hear about their study abroad experiences. While in Milan, we toured the Duomo, ate a delicious lunch and gelato, walked through the fashion district and (obviously) shopped. I can’t tell you how great it was to see the girls. Familiar faces in foreign places will always be a good thing.
Here are some pics of our trip:
I showed John the city of Verona all day the next day. We went to Castel Vecchio, Piazza Erbe, Piazza Bra, the Arena, the Old Roman Gates, and of course, Juliet’s balcony. We walked around 20 miles that day. I absolutely should not have stretched myself so thin the day after being released from the hospital, but I kept thinking that I didn’t want to miss out on anything on the itinerary. Looking back, I should’ve taken time to smell the roses and not tried to push my limits. Anyhow, I started to get sick again. But to make things more entertaining, John started to feel sick as well. He took off his jacket and his arm was swollen the size of two clementines. Yep, that’s the analogy I’m choosing, and I’m sticking with it. Anyway, he needed to go to the doctor. I took him back to the hospital and turns out he has a staph infection (-ish). So since my immune system is already weak in the first place, I had to go back and sanitize everything and get John’s stuff together in order for him to take off to Venice that night. I hate that he had to deal with that right when he got to Europe, but sometimes that’s just the way the cookie crumbles. He made it safely to Venice and last I heard, is doing well. Still, keep his health in your prayers.
A few shots of Castel Vecchio in Verona
I guess it took going to the hospital for me to adjust my internal alarm clock from being constantly set on the future, to being temporarily “off.” It was nice to be reminded that while anticipation is exciting, the present should be appreciated. I disregarded my health and kept thinking of weekend plans to come instead of focusing on getting better at that moment, so I could actually enjoy the future plans. Does that even make sense? Strangely enough, it does in my mind. Maybe that’s telling of my mental state… Nevertheless, I’m glad for the realization. Time flies. I need to take absolute full advantage of every second. I don’t want to halfway experience something because I’m ill or too busy thinking about what's next on the agenda. I want to fully experience everything! So what if that means taking it easy for a week so I’m well rested? It’ll be worth it when I’m well again. Plans are great, but they’re always tentative. I am grateful that I now understand that Italy isn't the final destination of my experience, but the day-to-day journey is the exciting, ongoing destination in itself.
...Ciao!
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