One of the decisions made last night was regarding a blood transfusion. Mamma was very upset at the news that she would need blood. She absolutely did not want a stranger's blood given to her. I suppose she doesn't realize that she had been given blood during the operation, but she was at the point of irrationality. She kept saying she doesn't want anyone's blood. Superstitious crap. I'm sure they are just as careful over here about blood donation as in the States, but she was quite upset by it. I asked about blood supply, Marco translating for me. I don't know medical terms so much.
They told us they could accept donation from family but they would need time (a day) to check it all out and process the blood. If someone wanted to donate to her they could transfuse her on Friday afternoon. Guess what blood type she is? O+. Guess who got to donate to her? Me.
Call me crazy but I believe it was supposed to happen. The week I left the States I went to the Red Cross with the hub-unit to attempt to donate. They ended up jacking my arm up and not accessing the veins. If they had only listened to me – I know my arms and where the veins are. I was pretty upset when it happened and told hub-unit I wouldn't be going back to them again ever. They've done this to me a number of times over the years.
After a medical history once over (I have lots to say) where poor assisting-in-translating Marco now knows EVERYTHING about my insides from port to starboard, they set me up with a technician to draw samples and then the bags. They listened to me and took it from me with no problem last night, two bags. I don't know if it was two pints - who knows the measurement equivalents over here? But I'm a big girl with lots of blood flowing through me, right? The doctors said I just need to take it easy for a couple of days, no lifting. They had no problem tapping into my arm; no butterfly access required.
She was given the blood this afternoon, and is already back to being a spitfire. Or is that from my blood in her? Hmmm... She wants food from outside, no hospital food. I'm just happy she has a modicum of an appetite again. The doctors do believe she was straining herself with stairs too much too soon. When she comes back home we're confining her to the house for a while. The priest can come over and give her Mass. She doesn't need to climb up and down flights of stairs quite yet.
There's more bad news from the west coast of Italy. It's raining again in Tuscany and Liguria. While the Cinque Terre aren't re-flooding, a bit north of there in Genova (Genoa) both their riverbanks burst and overflowed into the city. Most of the town is underwater and there are six dead so far, two of them children. The news just keeps replaying the footage of a baby carriage floating down the swollen street and a woman screaming. It's awful. Once is too much for that scene. Just the words are horrible enough, don't need the visual aids please.
Irresponsible “journalism” striking again for the shock factor. Ugh.
I needed some time alone. Needed to get out into the night air for a while and take deep breaths. I took myself to dinner near where my little apartment is, at the chinese restaurant around the corner. Hot & Sour Soup usually puts me in a good frame of mind and cures what ails me. The place was packed at 9PM. Good for them. I ended up calling my mother and having a long conversation outside the restaurant afterward: me & the computer, the magicjack and the land-line telephone on a six-foot cord. I'm a sight to behold, I suppose. The funny thing is that people walk up to me and get about a foot away from me and just stare. Carry on their conversation in Italian, saying “It's a telephone! On a computer! How does it work?” Not at me, not to me, but in their conversation. I kept cracking up and it was entertaining my mother as well. It's not like I'm in a phone booth – they walk right up to you and act as if you can't hear (hello?I'm talking into a phone...) and shout to each other "E una telefona! Nella computer! Che cosa?” A little rude, but hilarious. Like I'm a circus actor something. Shall I dance for you too?
Next time I think I'll pull my John Merrick imitation up for them. “I am not an elephant. I am not an animal. I am a human being.” It'll be so pretty.
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