Dave & Meredith's Travel Blog

So.  Klutsy Mendola has done it again.  Except this doesn’t seem to be as simple as the countless other times I’ve hurt my ankles.  This time, they put a hard cast on me.  Well, technically, it’s a half-cast.  But I can’t get it wet, can’t move my foot, can’t put any pressure on it at all. 

I don’t even know exactly what’s wrong with me, because some things are getting lost in translation.  Once again, just as I was starting to feel like I could really get by "speaking" another language, suddenly, it’s not about food or wine or travel, and I realize I know next to nothing.  When I was in the emergency room on Saturday night, I could barely understand a word people were saying to me.  And I can’t tell you how much worse it made me feel (not that my injured ankle wasn’t bad enough) when someone who had already witnessed an interaction between me and another medic said, "Lei parla inglese.  E Americana." to the next doctor, nurse or EMT who asked me what was wrong with me in italiano.  And every exchange had the same result – the word "Americana" was all that was needed for them to understand who I was and what I was all about.  It was as if all my previous attempts to speak Italian, or for that matter, any language of any country I have visited, didn’t count.  I was lumped in with every ugly American traveler who never said "Buongiorno" or "Lei parla inglese?" to an Italian before shifting into English.  It made me quite sad.

However, despite our seven-hour trip to the emergency room to get an x-ray (we’ve been assured this is quite normal), I am incredibly thankful for the kindness and care of the EMT staff in Riomaggiore, as well as the doctors and nurses who treated me at the hospital in La Spezia.  On the way to the hospital (my first-ever trip in an ambulance, complete with sirens and traffic weaving), we picked up an 86-year old woman who was having problems breathing.  At the hospital while I was waiting, I saw so many people in worse shape than me, which made me thankful that I only hurt my ankle.

I still wish I knew exactly what my problem is (Dave mentioned in his post that it could be either dislocation, torn ligament, bad sprain, or some combo).  In any event, I must stay off it for at least seven days, and then I need to see another orthopedic doctor wherever we are early next week (I’m aiming for Bologna – there are some seriously good doctors there), who will take this cast off, look at my ankle, and determine whether I need a more permanent cast (20 days to a month) or am well enough to start using a walking cast.  Cross your fingers for me that it’s the latter.

Oh, and I also have to inject myself with this blood-thinning medicine once a day.  Yep, it’s not a pill, it’s a little pre-filled syringe that I have to inject into my belly fat.  Thank god I’ve been eating all this gelato.  Dave did the injection for me the first day; maybe other people don’t have much of a problem with it, but after I held it over my stomach for a few minutes contemplating sticking a needle into my skin and pushing down on the plunger, I wimped out.  Anyway, apparently, there is a risk of getting a blood clot with this injury (other conditions apply as well), so it’s not a bad idea for me to take this medicine, and it only comes in the form of an injection.

I talked to my doctor on the phone last night (seriously, she is so awesome; everyone in the Boston area should go to Dr. Taffe).  She assured me that 1) the doctors in Italy are some of the best in the world; 2) the medicine they gave me to inject in my belly was totally safe, and the bruises I’m giving myself by doing it are totally normal and will go away, and 3) it is possible that I dislocated the bones in my ankle and I need to take seriously everything the orthopedic doctors tell me here (I had never heard of an ankle dislocation before).  She also dished out some good old-fashioned empathy, which I fully appreciated.

– Meredith