Submitted by Caitlin Rulli on the 2019 spring semester program in Rome, Italy…
Last week was wonderful. My high school friend Alex, who is studying in Vienna, came to visit Rome. We had more gelato in two days than I had the whole month leading up to his visit. I was feeling better after my grandmother died, and was feeling on top of my homework. Tuesday night, my friend Luke and I went for Taco Tuesdays at Pico’s, a Tex-Mex restaurant around the corner from campus for a welcome change from Italian food (it’s amazing, but after three straight weeks, a girl needs a break). We enjoyed some tacos and retired to our apartment building after a night of nice company and food.
Later that night, however, my good spirits were dashed.
To spare the gory details, I got sick. Awoken at four in the morning by an upset stomach, my misery continued into the morning until I texted our on-campus doctor asking what I should do. He called me, and ran down the list of a litany of potential treatments as I sat on my bathroom floor. After a minute, he asked, “Or you can go to the hospital?” I immediately burst into tears, and agreed that going to the hospital was the right choice. I’ve sung this song and dance before, and knew that it would be the smarter choice rather than waiting it out at home.
Thankfully, one of my roommates came with me to the hospital. She called the taxi for me, helped to fill out the information at the front desk, and sat with me while the nurses got me set up in the first aid room. Further still, she called our resident director to come sit with me when she had to leave for class. I’m very grateful for her selflessness that morning, she made the whole process of getting to the hospital much smoother than if I had to brave it alone.
Italian hospitals aren’t much different than American hospitals. I did have a private room, though I was not officially admitted to the hospital. The nurses were very sweet, and my doctor was wonderfully patient and kind. After several agonizing hours, I finally had enough medication to calm my fever and pain, and slept soundly for the first time in twenty-four hours. When I was sufficiently hydrated and had my doctor’s note in hand, a friend from UD (who I met in Madrid in our World Scholars cohort) came and brought me home. He accompanied me to the grocery store to buy bananas and crackers, and offered to go to the pharmacy to grab my medication. Eventually, with saltines in my stomach and Tylenol Extra-Strength in my bloodstream, I was able to fall asleep.
I awoke the next morning feeling tired, and with dark circles so bad it looked like I had two black eyes. I missed class, but felt okay. By that night, I was back to myself, going to class, and ready for a day trip to Orvieto on Saturday.
I learned two things through this ordeal. First, having good friends nearby makes the world of difference. I was lucky enough to have several to help me before, during, and after my short stint in the hospital, not to mention my friends in the United States offering their well-wishes and support.
Second, even when it feels like everything is going wrong, things smooth out. I missed class, went to a hospital in a foreign country, and a day later was back in class and working on homework. Insurance handled the paperwork, my friends handled the transportation, and I came through on the other side healthy and relieved.
So, the past two weeks in Italy have been challenging, to say the least. First a death, then a hospitalization – all I need is to get my passport stolen and I’ll have a trifecta of study-abroad disasters. That won’t happen, but even if I did, I know that I would make it through, a little battered and bruised, but I’d be okay.