Dave & Meredith’s Travel Blog

Some of you may know that one of my less desirable traits is impatience.  I generally know what I want and I want it as soon as reasonably practicable.

So, obviously, making the most out of our vacation while being unable to walk freely is an interesting challenge for me.  If I believed in fate, I would say that someone is trying to teach me patience with this little injury.

After the crazed schedule of activities in Rome and Florence, and even the slower pace of Tuscany and Umbria, I’ve had to completely reset my expectations on what is possible to accomplish in a day.  I considered it a major triumph yesterday that I took a shower (plastic bag covering the cast, of course), fed myself breakfast, got down a flight of stairs, took a bus down the hill about 200 yards, used crutches to go about 100 more yards to the Internet point, and repeated this outing in reverse direction.  I was exhausted by the time I got back to our room.  By the way, Dave helped me the whole time, but I still think it’s an accomplishment.

Today, Dave is out exploring the Cinque Terre (he’s spent the rest of our time here taking care of me; I thought it was only fair to give him one day to do a little of what we had planned to do here in four days).  I did make it outside on my own to get a great take-away lunch of foccacia and farinata (both local specialties; both yummy).  I brought my lunch back up to our room, ate it with some of the wine we bought while tasting in Chianti, and have spent my day reading a book and writing these blog posts (unfortunately, no Internet access in the room, but at least I have Dave’s laptop to write the drafts).  Also, I successfully injected myself with my blood thinning medicine (it was easier after the wine I had with lunch ).  If I weren’t injured, I’d say that this was a waste of a day while on vacation in Italy.  But since my expectations have been reset, I think it was a pretty good day.  Especially since I haven’t managed to injure any other bones or tendons in the process.

- Meredith

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