Better than nothing

17th July 2022

Stephen started the week a little concerned that he was not making the best of impressions at his new job, what with having to take another two days off after his relapse on the Sunday – meaning he also missed a round trip to Naples on Tuesday, which he was genuinely disconcerted about.

Whilst he was in a somewhat better state on Monday, he was nowhere near well enough to work, so we decided to spend the morning, or at least a significant part of it, hanging around the doctor’s waiting room. With the wonderful Dottoressa Sara still on maternity leave there were no appointments, and it was on a first come, first served basis. Well almost, for while there were maybe half a dozen before us in the pecking order, one elderly gentleman was joined by his daughter, who, in a pair of very brave multi-coloured leggings, considering her age, made a great show of stomping around, both inside and outside the room, sighing and generally showing her displeasure at being expected to have to wait.

I can’t help feeling that this display might have had more effect if both she and her father, in that Italian way, hadn’t kept wandering off – maybe to chat with some of the neighbours round the corner – meaning that when it actually came to his turn they were nowhere in sight, nor in hailing distance. She looked even more put out when she returned to find that someone had had the audacity to slip in before her, because presumably we should have all sat there like lemons waiting for her to deign to return. At least they stayed put then, though it obviously didn’t help either of their tempers for when they did eventually go in to see the doctor, the shouts coming from his surgery from the father could probably have been heard across the valley. And even when the consultation was over, it wasn’t the end of it, for after the next person went in the father returned with a piece of paper and had to slip in at a convenient interlude to ask if the medication was urgent because he’d forgotten what it was.

When it came to Stephen’s turn, the locum doctor looked at his test results and said that overall they looked all right. They showed maybe a few minor issues, but nothing serious. He prescribed some muscle relaxers (who’d have thought Stephen would have been in need of such a thing) and something to settle his stomach, but offered nothing else in a way of explanation for the relapse, nor did he offer any suggestions for further action, neither in the way of any other tests (he said there weren’t any) nor in advice about Stephen’s diet. We stopped off at the chemist’s on the way home to collect the medication, but only the relaxers were available. They put the other on order and said it would be there this evening, as per the usual system.

However, when I returned in the evening, despite there being two bags of medicines, the nice assistant was unable to find Stephen’s in either of the bags, no matter how many times she and the other assistant and the pharmacist herself looked through them. There were phone calls and more searching, and I was asked to wait as they were supposed to be bringing it, but when it got to ten past six I thought that fifty minutes was quite long enough, especially as I had a lesson at 7.00, so said we would collect it the next morning. As Meatloaf said, one out of two ain’t bad.

Fortunately, missing the stomach powders didn’t seem to have a detrimental effect, though when he started taking them the next day they definitely gave him a boost and those, together with the relaxers, have meant that he has maintained relative equilibrium for the rest of the week. We are not, though, inclined to leave it there. Dottoressa Sara is rumoured to be back next week, so Stephen will make an appointment with her and see what she has to say, and we are putting out feelers (i.e. asking Maddalena and Manuel, when he gets back from his family holiday in Greece) to locate a good gastroenterologist.

The good thing about Stephen being in MSP on Tuesday and not Naples, is that he was free to come with me in the afternoon to the optician’s in Corridonia to pick up my new glasses. These were ready some eleven days previously, but before I could fit a visit into my hectic (sic) schedule, they had had to close due to you know what. A message on Tuesday morning said they were once again open and so we headed over there in the afternoon, when what should have been a simple transaction became a little more complicated.

This is because when I tried on my new glasses (which I think make me look very Italian, while Stephen says they remind him of a German Expressionist) I was a little taken aback. While I could see perfectly through the right lens, the left one was distinctly blurry, and much less clear than with my contact lens. Ever one to offer a good service, the nice optician tested me with this and that, culminating in me walking around in those heavy metal testing frames, once with the oculist’s prescription in the left slot and once with my previous one. The reason for the discrepancy was, and maybe the oculist had said this but we had failed to grasp it, that due to the focal point of the glasses, if I had the stronger lens then I would see double, and with the weaker lens I wouldn’t, and therefore not run the risk of colliding into objects or feeling seasick.

Having given them a few days to bed in, they are actually fine – as long as I don’t think about it and become conscious of the difference. And the good news is that no such difficulty occurs with my contacts, so where lenses are concerned, as Meatloaf said, three out of four ain’t bad.

Stephen was back at work on Wednesday and made up for his enforced absence by being out all day, apart from a trip home for lunch. As for me, I had my last lesson of the current academic year with the Montegranaro Two, it having got to that point where the lure of the beach became stronger than even my charismatic teaching skills.

One of the benefits of Stephen now working in Montegranaro (allegedly) is that he is handy for the insurance office, meaning that he could pop there on Thursday morning to pay our medical insurances and the car insurance on the Panda – though not quite. Before he left, we raided our piggy banks (if you recall, for some reason neither my British bank card nor our Italian one work in their reader) for all our available ready cash, but needed to augment it with a withdrawal from the Unicredit machine next door. Only we couldn’t.

When Stephen went to use it, he found himself in a bit of a queue while the manager was hanging around talking on his mobile. Apparently, at some point the previous evening, someone wanting to use the cash point thought that the light illuminating the screen and keyboard looked odd and suspected that it was harbouring a card reader. This person phoned the police, who came and dismantled it to find that indeed it was just a light. The manager was now waiting for some technical assistance to reboot the system, but from what Stephen could make out of the conversation the technical support (surely a misnomer) was saying that although it was a false alarm, the machine still wouldn’t come back on, even though the manager announced to those gathered that it would be back on in two minutes. Stephen decided it was better not to wait, for who knew how long it was going to be, while the manager, eager to show he was taking the situation seriously, had given a woman who had been waiting for some considerable time a chair to sit on.

As for the insurances, he had enough cash to pay for the medical ones, but as Meatloaf said, two out of three ain’t bad (I knew I’d get there, eventually). This does mean, though, that he will have to find another time next week to pop back to settle up on the Panda. Just as well he is only a few minutes’ walk away. And if that wasn’t disappointment enough, even the fiercely efficient lady in the office, famed for her bejewelled tops, let us down by wearing something plain. It just seems like you can’t rely on anything these days.

We took things fairly easy as the week wound down, not wanting to outgrow Stephen’s strength, but we did try another beach walk this morning, though again only halfway. Even this might have been a bit of a stretch, especially given that it was 32º by ten o’clock – oh, and that he had floaty things in front of his eyes when we got back to the car. As last time, we used the time to do a spot of shopping, first at the Chinese superstore in Monte Urano for a couple of shades for the cars’ windscreens as well as must have impulse buys at bargain prices, and then at Totò for a cake to take to Luigi in acknowledgement of his help with the ambulance the other week. As for the floaty things, they had thankfully disappeared by the time we were heading home with our purchases, proving once again the efficacy of retail therapy.