Post-morfina

On Friday, April 11th, I turned 21. I was supposed to be on a plane heading to Belfast. The trip I wanted to take since I came to Europe. My homeland, my people, the Emerald Isle. I pictured how beautiful it would be, I pictured meeting people. Being able to talk to people. People that spoke English with enjoyable UK accents.

Instead of all that I pictured, I spent my 21st birthday in bed 15, floor 3 of Ospedale Santo Spirito near the Vatican.

Here's the story that I'm almost tired of telling:

Wednesday, April 9th started out like any other day. I was prepared for my Italian oral presentation, I was ready to go to my mythology class and get ready for my finals. At lunch, my friend Liz went out and bought pizza rossa for us. And that was the last thing I ate for three days.
I came home right after lunch time feeling violently ill, but not thinking much of it. After spending much of the afternoon between the bathroom and the couch moaning and unable to even keep down Gatorade, Adrienne insisted that I go to the hospital. I was against it, but too weak at this point to argue much. I didn't want to go to find out I had a stomach bug, something stupid like that.
We get to the Pronto Socorso around 10:30pm (I have no really great concept of time from here on out). We walk right into the nurses station and Adrienne starts throwing around the word 'appendicitis' like it's her job. They take me immediately, ask me some questions in broken English mostly Italian, colored with charades about pain and peeing. They take me to a bed, and draw some blood, then ask me to wait in the waiting room again.
I wait for a short while, and a doctor/nurse comes into the waiting room asking for "Elly? Elizabeth?" Which is me, since my passport is Borst, Wendy Elizabeth, and Italians don't like middle names so much as us crazy Americans.
I'm back on the table, a doctor/nurse who speaks no English begins poking my stomach searching for pain. Yikes. We started speaking in French which was better for me than Italian anyway. After some more poking about, he sits down and takes my hand. The universal sign that something awful is going on.
In French he tells me "You have appendicitis. You need surgery tonight or tomorrow." My mind went blank. Surgery. Rome. Home. These were the words that kept going through my head.
They took me to x-ray and checked out my chest. Then to ultrasound to double check the inflammation and to see if it burst. I'm pretty sure they would have known if it had burst without the ultrasound. But that's how it went.
Around 1:30 in the morning I was dropped off at bed 15. Anna and Adrienne were allowed to stay for about 15 minutes, and then were made to leave. I found myself alone in a dark room in a hospital next to the Vatican. My heart sank. Never have I felt so alone, helpless, unsure, unaware, scared and desperate. So I eventually fell asleep.

Thursday, April 10th a team of doctors entered my room. I felt like I was on the Italian version of Grey's Anatomy without all the really cute doctors. They poked me, prodded me, asked me in Italian how I was. "Va male" I moaned. Teri Morelli, the Student Affairs director came to be with me after that. To reassure me, to make me aware that things were going to be okay. Which was nice, because nothing really felt like it was going to be okay. I was supposed to have surgery at 11:00. But 11 turned to 3, and 3 turned to 9:30pm. Carolyn was with my while the wheeled me away. At that point I think I normally would have felt more afraid than I was. But I just wanted it to be done by then. I was moved to a thin green operating table, and my IV arm was held out at a right angle to me. The anesthesiologist administered the drugs through the IV. I felt heavy and awkward and then was out. I remember waking up at 10:30 almost exactly. The clock on the wall said 22:36:50something. My limbs were still heavy, my body was shaking, and tears were streaming down my face. I couldn't lift my hands properly to wipe them away, and my hands kept falling clumsily against my face. I kept trying to say thank you, grazie, as my body convulsed on my bed. When I got back to my room, they took out a heavy blanket and laid it over me, and I slept fairly peacefully.

On April 11th I discovered why it was so peaceful. I had an accessory on Friday! My own little tube of morfina! If I couldn't be getting hammered at a bar like any other self respecting 21 year old on their birthday, then at least I had my morfina.

I think it was Friday when I realized that all the doctors loved me. The poor American girl. Everyone was exceptionally nice to me. They all tried to talk to me, I became cuter when I could only get out phrases like "Va bene" or "Meglio" They came in and poked some more, took my temperature. I think Friday that might have taken my blood pressure, but that might have been Saturday... Either way, most interesting 21st birthday ever.

The rest of the time there is a mixture of eating liquids, getting my IV changed, Anna, Adrienne, Carolyn, and our friend Andrea visiting me, me feeling horribly lonely a lot of the time. I watched a lot of movies because Carolyn brought my laptop and DVDs from a friend of hers. My roommates are truly the greatest people I could have had the pleasure to live with. I mean, it kind of sucked being in the hospital, but they tried to make it better. And I appreciate that so much.

I was finally discharged Monday, April 14th. I had already missed my Italian final exam and oral presentation. I had two exams to take on Wednesday (which went okay). I was tired, I couldn't walk farther than the bathroom. I ate bread with jam for a while because I didn't want to push it.
I'm excited for my scar. Very excited. My Italian battlewound, as it were. Or is. It's not about the scar. The scar is just a souvenir from one of the biggest adventures I've had in Rome. It was the weekend that built way more character than any of the others. If I can survive surgery in Italy at a hospital were very little English is spoken, alone, without my family, on my birthday, my last weekend in Europe, missing Belfast. If I can come out of that, well, I already feel like a stronger person than I was. Gitti has been the only person to fully empathize this thought with me. I'm trying to spin it in positive ways. She said it builds character. It does. I can't say that I'm glad that this happened, because I'm not. I had plans, and my appendix had different ones. But at least I got something from it.

My stitches come out today. In a couple hours. It's small, but I hope it has character. I can't wait to show it off. And then get some gelato. And try to see some sights despite the rain. And then pack, because tomorrow I leave the apartment at 7:30 in the morning to get to the airport to finally fly home. The only place I've wanted to be since I went to the hospital.

Wien

Vienna is a very beautiful city, and it was a very beautiful trip, bookended by two not so fabulous things. But! Let's get this started.

I arrived in Vienna Friday afternoon. Alone, in a foreign city that has a language I don't speak. I was slightly apprehensive, but mostly excited for the whole adventure. I had my dictionary if I needed it, and I was prepared. I get to the hostel, grab a map, spend a little time looking it over, and decided to start out. I walked down Mariahilferstrasse to get to Wien city center. Mariahilferstrasse is a pretty lengthy street (befitting its name, I guess) and it is all commercialized. I saw at least four H&Ms, 2 Claires, a couple McDonalds, a KFC, and a few Starbucks. Yikes. I went down to Maria-Thersten Platz, which had the Kunst Historical Museum, and the Natural History Museum, and this neat statue in the middle. As well as a lot of symmetrical shrubberies.

This is part of the statue, and the..... Natural History Museum. Which I did not visit. After I stopped here, I continued walking, and found the Volksgarten!

Vienna is the first city that I've seen that's sort of in bloom. Rome is getting in there, but Vienna had their stuff together. The Volksgarten was a bit scarce, but the gardens in front of Rathaus had daffodils and such already planted.

Honestly, I could have just sat in parks for the entire weekend and been totally content. It was pretty, and calm. Even on Friday and Saturday night (alright, I didn't see much of Friday night, but Saturday!) it was pretty quiet. Peaceful.
After sitting in Rathaus Platz for a little while, I decided to keep moving. And found Freud Park right in front of Votivkirche

I don't know what this is. Chairs, around a table. The chairs had names of countries on them, but I think the only one I could really make out was Hungary (Ungeria or some such) And all of the trees that have been planted around this had a plaque with a country name in front of them. I didn't get it. But it's Freud Platz... what's there to get? I went into Votivkirche, too. Because churches tend to be free for the visiting. And are some of the most beautiful places you'll ever see.

I've been taking pictures of pipe organs as a result of my music book. However, I've discovered that they're pretty interesting. So many different styles, and sizes. They're kinda really pretty.
Then I walked past Parliament.

Which had Greek statues all over it? This is Athena. And in front are a myriad of other Greek characters. It seemed strange to me, I can't quite explain it. I mean, why shouldn't they have Greek statues in front of their Parliament?

Somewhere in here, my stomach really started to hurt. Bad. And this is where one of those bad bookend moments came in. I went back to my hostel at around 7:00ish (I think, I can't really remember) and I climbed into my bed, fully clothed, and tried to sleep. And got ill. I think I had a little bit of food poisoning from the morning where I had a breakfast sandwich in which the egg might not have been superb.... So I spent a fair amount of time in bed. I had chills, probably a fever, and eventually got sick. Allow me to lament for a moment. It sucks being sick. It sucks being sick in Rome. It sucks even more being sick in a city you've never been in before all by yourself with no one to really care about you (not even for me, just about me). It was lonely.

But Saturday I awoke fresh as a daisy (almost) and decided to take on Vienna! Saturday was planned to be my museum day. I was going to tackle the Freud Museum, the Mozart House, and the Haus der Muzik.
Freud Museum

Was fascinating. Not so much in a visual type way, but in a 'Freud lived here' type way. Which is pretty cool. I saw his couch, too. The Mozart House was kind of a letdown. I mean, Mozart lived there, which is fabulous, but they had a headphone walking tour type thing, and it was just too much information that wasn't particularly interesting. But it had some of his scores, and I liked that. The Haus der Muzik would be enjoyed mostly by people -fascinated- by acoustics. It was pretty cool. But! You couldn't take pictures in the Mozart House or the Haus der Muzik. And being a photographer, I wanted to document things visually so.bad. I blame people that use flash. It's usually their fault.

And! In between museums, I had a bratwurst. In a hoagie roll. And the bratwurst was filled with cheese. Oh my, so delicious. And huge. And covered in mustard and ketchup. For cheap! It was like... 3.20euro. Good deal. :)

After my bratwurst, I went into Stephensdom

Another really pretty church in Vienna. Of course. Aren't they all. This one had a massive pipe organ. I like sitting in churches. Just thinking about all that goes into them. How they're a testament to God, and works of art. I feel that it's sort of contrary to the word of God. I mean, it's a huge material object. Granted, it's a house of God... but that money could have gone to, I don't know, feeding the homeless? Helping the lepers? These are the things that I think about in churches. I just sit myself down in a pew, and think about religion. It's a good little period of reflection.

I walked down to Karls Platz (I think some of this might be out of order...)

Nice little fountain thing going on here. I'm sure this guy was really important. I'll research later ;)
And then I walked around in front of Karlskirche, because I had plans, and didn't have time to get inside.

Pretty! But I hoped on the metro at Karlskirche (first time taking the metro in Vienna) And it was really nice! I got off at Prater and went to the park, because that's where the Reisenrad is!
And the Reisenrad was a huuuuuuuuge let down. I mean, it was still nice to see. But the rest of the park was nice. And it's free to get in and walk around. Rides cost a ridiculous amount, though. When you first get in, it looks a bit sad, kind of like a desolate Coney Island. The more you got in, the nicer it looked.

That's the Reisenrad. It used to have twice as many cars. Sometime around WWII, I think, they removed half. There's a reason for it, I just don't remember. And, coincidentally, I took this while I was waiting for my 3euro schnitzelsemmel to be ready. Which was pretty much a glorified chicken patty. But it was delicious :)

It was fun to walk around at night. All pretty and lit up like parks get.

I went back to the hostel after that. Did some reading for class, went to sleep. Daylight saving finally caught up to Europe. I took my time, went out to Schonbrunn. I didn't take pictures, the light was too harsh. But I read for fun in the gardens and just chilled until it was time to take the bus from Westbanhof to the airport, and fly back to Rome. The trip back was stressful... but I don't particularly feel like sharing that story right now ;)

Next weekend is Belfast for my birthday, then finals week (one final!!) And then I fly home. 2 weeks until I'm back in the States. Where did my time go?

<3