Let’s just say a visit to an Italian emergency room wasn’t on my travel itinerary…
When I set off for a two-week vacation exploring the best of Italy, I envisioned days filled with pasta, picturesque views, and immersing myself in the rich history and culture. What I didn’t anticipate was a detour that would land me in the chaotic emergency room of a local hospital. As you might imagine, navigating healthcare in a foreign country presents its own unique set of challenges (especially when you’re not feeling well).
From locating the correct hospital to dealing with the cultural nuances of the Italian healthcare system, the experience was nerve-wracking. However, it turned out to be an invaluable learning opportunity, highlighting the importance of preparation and flexibility when traveling abroad.
So while I hope you never need this information, I thought I’d recount my tale for you today:
WHAT IT’S LIKE TO VISIT A VENETIAN EMERGENCY ROOM
Michael and I 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? In my current state? 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 Ospedale SS. Giovanni e Paolo, 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 (I guess you’re supposed to go in on your own…).
I entered a large-ish hospital room not unlike the ones here in the U.S. and 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 televisions in the room were blaring world news to me and the other people around me who were hooked up to IVs, sitting in wheelchairs, or waiting for crutches (those Venetian cobblestones are dangerous!).
Jetlagged and feeling miserable, I dozed in and out as time passed. Michael was allowed into the room at this point, though there was nowhere for him to sit and so he patiently stood by my gurney. My IV bags were switched out several times, and eventually, 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.
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, which always makes me feel better:
While not my ideal way of spending a day in Venice, it was definitely a memorable experience – and I regret not visiting the ER sooner.
As an American citizen, I’m generally wary of going to the doctor or getting medical help because of how expensive it is, even though I have decent health insurance. The same visit to a hospital back home would easily run thousands of dollars, but in Italy, my bill was less than $100.
By the next day, I was about 90% back to normal – and I would have been better sooner if I had listened to my gut rather than my head and wallet. While I can’t recommend the healthcare system in my own country, I would encourage other travelers not to wait before seeking help if they’re ill; our health is worth it.
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Have you ever fallen ill while traveling? What did (or didn’t) you do about it?
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