People cannot help unless they know you need help.
The vast majority of people want to help.
I firmly believe that both those statements are true and are even more valid in a foreign country.
My most recent experience of this involved an insect bite that wasn’t an insect bite, a pharmacist whose wife drove me to a doctor’s surgery, a doctor who didn’t change for the consult and finally that same pharmacist staying open after hours to give me the medicine I needed.
I suppose sometime I was going to encounter the need for a doctor in Abruzzo. I’ve spent a lot of time here and up until last week apart from zanzare bites I haven’t had to deal with much of a medical nature.
Last week I got a series of bites and thought nothing of them. Most disappeared after going through the itchy stage but one in particular stayed around. Not only did it stay around but it got more red and swollen daily. Coming back from a walking trip in the Majella Mountains I finally realised that maybe this red, raw, swollen area wasn’t a bite after all.
Now the location of the red, raw, swollen area was not one I wanted to shout about. It’s silly really but there are still bodily areas that I prefer not to talk about and this painful area was too close to one of them.
The people I was with realised there was something wrong though, as I was not my usual gazelle-like self bounding up the final ascent (I’m not sure when I’ve ever been “my usual gazelle-like self” but you get the picture).
So pushing embarrassment aside I explained the problem and said that I don’t know if I need a doctor or not. D, who was travelling in the car with us, told us about a pharmacist who goes well beyond the usual pill dispensing duties and has seen so many ailments he can usually tell if a doctor is needed or not. The great thing about this guy was he was nearby and open.
I arrived hoping he would understand my attempt at Italian ER-speak, recognise the problem right away, know the species of nasty insect that did this to me, and give me a miracle cure that would allow me to be fully functional the next morning.
It didn’t quite work like that. I had a discreet conversation with him (my Italian worked well) and he said he’d have to see the problem before commenting. That made perfect sense so we went into a side office and after he took a peek he said I needed a doctor and it would be best to go soon as possible as it could get worse.
I’d no idea where to find a doctor at close to 8 pm on a Friday evening and the idea of my problem getting worse didn’t really appeal so I naturally I asked where I’d find one. I wasn’t expecting much but before I knew it he’d organised his wife to bring me to a surgery that opened at 8 pm about 1 km away. He also looked serious and said “this doctor is good”; music to my ears.
We’re getting close to the end of the story at this stage. I visited the doctor, again my Italian held up (sort-of) and he prescribed antibiotics and pain killers. He said he was back there on Sunday night (yes I said Sunday night) if I needed him again but he expected I’d notice some improvement before then. As for a charge he said niente. I can’t imagine getting out of a doctor’s surgery in Ireland for less than €50.
Back to the now closed pharmacy and the pharmacist who was so helpful earlier very kindly fulfilled the prescription and sent me on my way.
The whole process took less than an hour and not only that I was told it was OK to drink a little Montepulciano d’Abruzzo while I was recovering.
I believe I have just been part of a minor medical miracle.
