Il mio nuovo bracchio!

I am pleased to announce that I have my arm back ! ! ! ! I really missed it! However, it's hardly back to normal yet. It is amazingly magro e debole (thin and weak). There is a dent in my bicep where my muscle should be!

Living without my right arm for a week was tough. I am so thankful that my arm is not broken because I cannot imagine living and travelling with a cast for a right arm for months. Writing with my left hand was tough, but I was fortunate to get my midterm and my Italian quiz pushed back from Thursday to Monday, when my arm should be functioning. It was nice to take it easy academically this week. Flossing was also really difficult.

But the hardest thing for me was when people looked at me and reacted with pity. For me, other people feeling bad for me made it harder for me to be strong. "Oh you poor thing!" was something that I heard a lot this week, and it didn't help. Those words made me want to feel sorry for myself rather than live normally. What helped was when people treated me like a normal human being. And I did appreciate when people helped me when I asked for help.

For example. One day, I bought a panino at a place by my school. It was taking me a while to get out my money to pay for it and the guy who worked there had to hold the panino in the meantime. Seeing my cast, the guy said, "It's okay, take your time." Take off backpack->unzip backpack->locate wallet->get out money->put wallet back->zip up backpack->put backpack on. "OK, you're taking too long, I'm taking a bite." He mocked like he was going to take a bite of my sandwich and I protested ("Hey!") and he smiled and gave me my sandwich. It was such a little thing but a little good-natured teasing made me feel a little more human than zombie. (It was also an act of sympathy in itself that he spoke in English to me. Even if Italians know a little English, they are often reluctant to speak it.)

I'm telling you this so that you can think about how you treat injured and disabled people. I know that I am often at a loss as to how to treat injured people. Well, now I know. Don't feel sorry for them; show them love by treating them like a human who just needs a little extra help right now.

Allora. I am very thankful to have my arm back!

My homestay mom, who I will call "Maria", took me to the hospital to get the cast off. It was very kind of her to take off work and go with me. I was very thankful that she did, because the Italian hospital system is baffling to me. On my own, I would not have even figured out how to pay for the visit! There is no human to give the money to. Rather, I put the bills into a machine in the hospital. It was strange to me because in the U.S. we would never put a $50 bill into a machine. We would pay with a credit card. Strano.

Another thing that was strange was the system for getting into a room with a doctor. We got a paper that said that our number was 137 and that the room number was "2 - 4." Even my homestay mom was confused. The room could be 2 to 4? The room was 2 or 4? And then when the numbers came up it appeared to be completely random. 212, 119, 138,... It was kind of amusing to me. I will say one thing for the Italian health care system, though- it was cheap! My ER visit in which I got X-rays and a cast cost 66 euros! I feel like if I'd gotten the same thing in the U.S. it would've been much more than that. And if I was Italian, it would've cost me only 56 euros.

Oh, and I got to keep my X-ray. :)

Proof that I'm not broken

After the hospital visit, I had lunch with my homestay mom, my homestay sis "G", and la nonna. (They didn't have to invite me to lunch.) We had pesto pasta and then fruit and then caffè.

"O LORD my God, I called to you for help and you healed me." ~Psalm 30:2