Lost in Translation: My Unexpected Trip to an Italian Emergency Room

Well, this wasn’t on our itinerary.

We’d only arrived in Venice the day before and enjoyed a splendid day exploring Piazza San Marco, visiting the Doge’s Palace, and gorging on cicchetti. The following day, I woke up with an upset stomach. Well, that’s not much of a surprise; a full day’s worth of traveling followed by a full day’s worth of eating is enough to throw anyone off balance. But it wasn’t just discomfort – it was sharp, shooting pain. I told Michael I wanted to stay in bed a little longer (even though it was already 9:00 a.m.) to let it pass.

The hours ticked by and I dozed off and on, still experiencing bouts of excruciating pain. Knowing that one always visits the pharmacy first (as we’ve done other times we’ve come down with colds and burns and other ailments abroad), I finally sent Michael off to the nearest one, hoping he could communicate with the pharmacists enough to get me something.

He arrived with a pack of effervescent tablets, and I took one (apparently Italians love these fizzy remedies – they were everywhere!). No such luck.

Finally, finally, at almost 5:00 p.m. I decided I needed to go see someone to help. I messaged my Airbnb host asking where I could find a doctor. He responded quickly:

You have to go to the hospital in ss.Giovanni e Paolo, around 20 mins walking. There are no Doctors coming to houses here if there isn’t an emergency, unfortunately.

Twenty minutes walking? Yeesh. We found a way to get there partly on a Vaporetto even though it was a bumpy ride. After pausing several times on the remainder of the trek, we finally made it to the Emergency Room, pictured at the top of the post. Despite a sign clearly saying “No Entry” we found out the door it was printed on was the entrance and went in.

The triage nurse waved me in (apparently you are supposed to check in at the kiosk – we somehow missed this), and thankfully spoke English. He collected my passport information and took notes on what was bothering me. I was placed in the Green category and given a number. In order of most severe to least severe, patients are assigned one of the following color codes: red, yellow, green, and white. Reds and yellows are given priority, then greens are called in, and finally whites. We waited about twenty minutes for my number to flash on the screen. One of the other five people in the waiting room, an older lady, got quite huffy that I was called in before her. According to Michael, once she had a word with the triage nurse, she was called back not long after.

It was not clear if I was supposed to enter the room alone, or if someone was supposed to come out and get me after my number was called. I waited and waited, and someone finally came looking for me (guess you’re supposed to go in on your own…). I entered a large-ish hospital room not unlike the ones here in the US. I sat down at the desk and tried my best to explain my condition. Between the two doctors on duty, I was able to convey what was going on. Michael was not allowed in the room with me, which made this even more nerve-wracking.

They motioned me over to a hospital bed, and I climbed on. They took blood samples, checked my vitals, and took a sonogram of my abdomen. I was surprised how many people were attending to me (there were three or four – although I kept having waves of pain and it was kind of a blur). Eventually, they hooked me up to an IV and rolled me into a waiting room with about fifteen other patients. The TVs were on, and people around me were hooked up to IVs, sitting in wheelchairs, or waiting for crutches (those Venetian cobblestones are dangerous!). I dozed in and out as time passed. Michael was allowed in at this point, though there was nowhere for him to sit so he stood by my gurney. My IV bags were switched out several times, and afterward, they came to check on me. By this point, I felt really weak but wasn’t experiencing pain any longer. They asked me if I would like to stay overnight (um, no thank you, our Airbnb is a former Venetian palace), and printed my invoice after I declined. We were told to pay at the machine before exiting.

No, this is not a subsidized bill – this is full price.

Unfortunately, the machine was not working, and we were told to leave and come back in the morning. “But our train is at 10:00 a.m.!” we protested.

“Perfect, you come before you catch your train,” the triage nurse said.

I was instructed not to eat for the next day or two, but seeing as we had a dinner reservation in less than an hour (and we would be charged €60 for not showing) we booked it over to CoVino for an incredible dinner. I ate very lightly, but I am so glad we went.

While paying the next morning, we walked through this part of the hospital to get to the cashier (where, yet again, I had to take another ticket to get called to the window):

And we saw several cats:

While not my ideal way of spending a day in Venice, it was definitely a memorable experience. I certainly regret not going to the hospital sooner. As an American citizen, I’m generally wary of going to the doctor or getting medical help because of how expensive it is (and I have decent health insurance). My bill was less than $100 and by the next day, I was about 90% back to normal. I ended up factoring the bill into the overall cost of the trip, and it was absolutely worth it. I would encourage other travelers not to wait before seeking help if you’re ill; your health is worth it.

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Have you ever fallen ill while traveling? What did (or didn’t) you do about it?

Lost in Translation: My Unexpected Trip to an Italian Emergency Room

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