An Injury in Italy or Mo’s Tale of Woe

I think all of us worry a bit about what would happen if we get hurt or sick while away on a trip. I’ve found that the best thing to do to ease worries is to try to plan for likely emergency situations as best as you can before your trip. Then you have that box checked and can just enjoy your time. Sometimes it’s hard to even imagine what could happen, so here’s a story from my recent trip to Florence, Italy, when my friend was injured. Hopefully, this can help answer some questions for you and ease your mind.

It was our first full day in Florence, and my friend Monique and I set off early in the morning of a beautiufl day before our first tour, Pitti Palace and Boboli Garden, to do a little exploring. Soon we found that not much was open before 10 AM.

I had been jonesing for a plain black iced tea since we arrived in Europe almost 2 weeks ago. Plain black iced tea appeared to be as rare as beef jerky with a side of root beer in Italy. As we aimlessly walked down the street, we passed a Starbucks. I tried to ignore it, but I couldn’t resist myself. I told Mo we had to go back; I was breaking down. She didn’t try to stop me; I’m sure she was sick of hearing my constant whining about it. I went in and ecstatically ordered a plain black iced tea. It was delicious! I didn’t even care what a dork I looked like as an American getting Starbucks in Italy.

We wandered further down the block and crossed a street where the Hard Rock Cafe happened to be on the next corner. I was rambling on and on about how wonderful it was having iced tea once again, and I didn’t even care if I wasn’t being a cool traveler and only ingesting delicious but teeny tiny little cups of coffee or sugary sweetened iced tea. Mo was companionably ignoring me.

Suddenly, I heard a horrendous sound of bone smacking hard against marble. I looked slightly behind me and down and saw one of my best pals since fifth grade, Mo, sprawled on the ground behind me. She had tripped on the uneven sidewalk. The sound I heard was her shoulder hitting the Hard Rock Cafe’s cold marble sidewalk, but the bigger injury was to her ankle.

I had a momentary fear that I might start laughing as I tend to do when I see people trip. Luckily, I didn’t see her trip; I just heard the terrible sound of it. Back when we were in eighth grade, I’ll never forget our class sitting quietly, criss-cross-apple-sauce style, scattered out across the gymnasium, writing a “profound” letter to our future selves.

Mo was one of the first to finish. She stood up and unsteadily weaved through the crowded gym to submit her paper. It turned out her foot had fallen asleep. I watched her fall in the most hilarious slow-motion stumbling trip I had ever seen! I couldn’t stop laughing! I still feel kind of bad about it to this day, and I think Mo is still kind of irritated about it, honestly. She ended up with a sprained ankle, and she has had problems with that ankle since. Now, here we were again. Thank God I didn’t see her fall this time, 40 years later.

I knelt down next to her, asking if she was OK. She said, “I don’t think so.” I scrambled over to grab a chair from one of the tables in front of the Hard Rock and pulled it over to her. She said, “I can’t even move to get up, my ankle hurts too much.”

I allowed myself a brief moment of panic: What should I do? Can I lift Mo? Is our trip over? Is Mo going to be OK? We were supposed to split up and leave Florence soon. All of our hotel reservations and flights! Is there an urgent care nearby? What if they don’t speak English? Does Italy even have “Urgent Care”s?

I was snapped out of my moment of panic by the Hard Rock employees who appeared outside to check on the situation. I followed one of them inside to get some ice while another one talked with Mo. When I came back out, the employee was on the phone, and I asked her what was happening. She held up a “shh” finger to me, then finally whispered, “I’m calling for an ambulance.” Cue the sounds of cash registers chiming and cartoon visions of hundred-dollar bills sprouting wings and flying out of Mo’s wallet!

I spluttered to Miss Hard Rock, “Uh, isn’t there an urgent care nearby? Maybe we could take a cab there?” She hung up the phone and said the ambulance was on the way. I broke the news to Mo, who definitely seemed more staggered by pain and worried she might have a broken ankle than caring about expenses at that point.

The ambulance arrived within minutes, and the EMTs sprung into action. One of the two EMTs spoke perfect English, and the other one spoke nada (you can see how much Italian I speak). The first thing they asked her for was her passport, which she had with her (be sure to either carry your passport or at least have a photo or copy of it with you!)

Soon they had Mo loaded into the ambulance and let me ride in the cool jump seat with her to the hospital. After I set my precious iced tea on a shelf in the ambulance, the EMT told me I needed to throw it away or hold onto it. So, of course, I held it reverently. The hospital, Santa Maria Nuova, was just a short drive.

I hurried after Mo as they wheeled her towards the ER. I was told I could not come in but would have to wait in the WW2-era waiting room (actually, reading the hospital’s history, it may have been a 12th-century waiting room!) Luckily, we could text each other. Mo kindly texted me to proceed to our tour since we’d already paid for it, and I couldn’t actually wait with her anyway. It was my first time in Florence, and Mo had already seen the place I was touring.

It turned out Mo ended up sitting in a chair in the ER for 3 hours until she was finally taken for an X-ray. Only a couple of the nurses and doctors she encountered spoke English. Mo forgot about the Google Tranlate app but was able to communicate through pantomime and a few Italian words she knew. The results came back that it was not a break but just a sprain. They wrapped Mo’s ankle and told her to take ibuprofen and ice it.

She was then unceremoniously shown the exit with paperwork – which included the X-ray results and instructions for care (ice, elevate etc.); along with an order for pain meds to take to a farmacia – ALL in Italian. She hobbled around the ER lobby, where no staff was to be found. Mo found an ATM looking machine, tried scanning the barcode on the front sheet they’d given her, and was able to pay using a credit card. The charge was 62 Euros (about $68). That was it! In the US this would have cost THOUSANDS of dollars!! So far, 2 months later, no other bill has shown up. I will be sure to update this post if any additional bills show up in Mo’s mailbox.

Luckily, our hotel (Hotel David) was a wonderful help. Mo called them while she was waiting in the ER, and they offered reassurance that they had equipment (crutches and a wheelchair) she could borrow. Apparently this is not an unusual occurrence for tourists in Florence!

With the help of the borrowed wheelchair the next day for our tour of the Uffizi Gallery, Mo was able to forge ahead, undeterred on the rest of our trip.

The moral of the story is, watch your step but don’t worry too much if you sprain your ankle in Florence, Italy!

Here is a US Embassy resource for learning about the Italian healthcare system: Medical Emergencies in Italy. Be sure to double-check with your own health insurance company and your credit card company to see what international health care coverage they offer. I have a Chase credit card, and it offers good travel medical insurance. Read that fine print!

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