The 4th of July also marks the opening of the first official Sales day in Italy. A little out of respect for the long standing institution of Consumerism, and a lot to satisfy our own need for serious Retail Therapy, Mom and I “dutifully” do our rounds of the Perugini shops. Judging from the amount spent and the items purchased, this form of therapy definitely has a desired effect. In fact, to guarantee full success, I expect many more sessions will be required in a very near future.
Later in the day, I visit Mar in the hospital. She had her 1 ½ hour radiotherapy session this morning and is now on to chemo. It seems I am destined to struggle with the nurses to get into the ward. Since my two hour traumatic waiting experience a couple of months ago, I take no risks. I buzz the bell and stand in front of the door until a nurse either opens or I announce myself through the intercom. In my assertiveness, I may have become a tad overly “buzz happy” and a volatile nurse starts scolding me. I briefly justify myself and refuse to enter into a discussion with her. I look at her blankly and indulge in a very blaze tone: “certo, certo” (sure, sure). The equivalent of a “whatever” or “talk to the hand”. Dissatisfied, she continues her grumbling to another more accommodating relative.
Inevitably, Mar’s therapy wasn’t as pleasant as ours. Far from it. The last 10 to 15 minutes were hard. She wasn’t allowed to move and her body started to cramp up. Immediately after the session, she was sick. I ask how she feels now and she can only describe the feeling as weird. Not nauseous but not normal either and she’s exhausted. When she asks about my day, I diligently describe each clothing item purchased. With Mar in the hospital, I find myself more consciously aware of my experiences. At least I try to be. It is deliberate with the intent of recounting them as accurately and animatedly as possible. I want to share every colorful detail. I want to lend my sister my eyes and my ears so that she may feel less isolated. Of course, if really my vision and hearing were at her disposal, I daresay they would serve her differently. This is confirmed when - after I finish with the beautiful green silk strapless top - she asks: “That’s great Paul. What’s happening in Iran?” And there you have it! I should’ve known…After all, I remember a time when Mara started her conversation with “What’s your take on the Israeli-Palestinian conflict?” I’ll have to brush up on my current affairs.
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