Sat the 9th of May - 118

I am jolted out of sleep by a very loud and throaty groan around 7am this morning. It comes from the neighbor next door. The only interaction I had with him was when I asked him a couple of weeks ago to lower his voice while Mara rested. Even though the walls are thin, he was very understanding and immediately did as he was bid. Seconds later, I hear the panicked voices of a young woman and an older man, screaming and calling his name, Giancarlo. I jump up and run outside. At the same moment, the young woman also bursts out of the room. She sees me, and frightened, asks for help. I can not dial the emergency number 118 with my Dutch phone but we were given a direct number to the hospital in such cases. Only, Dad has it so I run to his room and persistently knock on his door. In one breath I explain and Dad ever so calmly dials the number once he finds it. The lady, in tears, begging us to hurry, says Giancarlo can not be roused. He vomited and is salivating and their attempts to wake him are useless. She eventually also manages to call 118 and runs downstairs to wait by the gate for the ambulance. Since he vomited, I worry he may be lying on his back and suffocating. I run back to the room to find the older gentleman, still trying to wake him by shouting his name. Giancarlo is in bed, on his back, unconscious. I try pushing him to his side but he’s a big man and I can only get his upper body to shift. The older man sees what I’m doing and grabs a yellow bucket. I remember fleetingly wondering of what importance a bucket could possibly be right now. After a minute, he understands and helps roll Giancarlo to his side. I never did this before and I desperately hope I’m doing the right thing. I do notice a thin line of bile trickling down the side of his mouth while we turn him. When the paramedics arrive, I return to my room. I still hear a lot of commotion, people rushing about, talking loudly, equipment moving and finally to my relief, through my window, I see a drowsy but conscious Giancarlo being brought to the hospital. Just to be sure, I walk back out to check on the young lady. The door to the room is still open and I call out “Signorina?” She appears, looking exhausted but calmer. She apologizes for having disturbed us…As if I would write a letter of complaint to Management!

I am now wide awake and it’s only around 7.15am. I take a long warm shower and after a while I give in to my grief and burst into tears. This is all just too much. I keep thinking how Giancarlo must have been not so long ago, a vital man in his forties with strong thick hair. This is all so unfair.

Other then reading, blogging, facebooking and hanging out with my sis, I picked up an old childhood hobby of mine. Friendship Bands! The repetitive motion of tying knots in strings is very soothing. So today while talking with Mar, I knot away! Since it’s been 17 years since my last band, I wonder if I still have the touch. I do. It’s like riding a bike. In 3 hours, I make my first bracelet which Mar now proudly uses as a bookmarker. You see, I miscalculated the length of the strings and it’s a little too short.

While we converse, a man walks in. Not only is he clad in the green hospital cloth, he is in actual fact (no pun intended) a Man of the Cloth. He is here to offer his spiritual services to the patients of this ward. Mara and I are initially weary of his intentions…Will he trick us into a quick conversion, Vegas style? While sizing him up, his first question does not bid well. He asks of what Faith Mara is. Straight to the point. She says she is a Spinozista…He looks at her puzzled, as do I, but he is not deterred. Although he is wearing a mouth piece, he is pleasant to talk to and we find out that he is a Brother of the Franciscan Order. I eagerly show off my recently acquired knowledge of Saint Francis as Patron Saint of the animals. Anyone who is kind to animals automatically receives Mar’s stamp of approval and she therefore takes to this Saint. The “Brother’s” name is Michele and he comes from the same country of our father, Puglia. He’s a friendly man and promises next time to bring a book for Mar to read. Anyone who brings her reading material also receives Mar’s stamp of approval.