There aren’t many things I’m afraid of. Needles, however, turn my tummy to jello, make my teeth clench and my hands sweat. Imagine the wave of fear that washed over me when the orthopedic doctor in Alghero, Sardegna said “everyday for thirty days you have to give yourself a needle in the stomach.” I screamed NO. The nurse said, “or die from a blood clot.” Oh, I mused – die or get a needle in the stomach everyday for thirty days. Thirty days ways the length of time I was to wear the cast/boot on my broken ankle and repose. Gulp, I’ll take the needle but I can’t give it to myself. The nurse showed my husband Jack how to jab a needle in my gut. Jack did it – I think happily and with a malicious grin – for three weeks. Then he left for Venice. Catzzo, now what do I do? No way I can shoot myself up with blood thinners – eeeeeuuuuuchh.
Wheelchair and Booze! One way to get through this.
Curbside Service at La Farmacia! Annarita, my resourceful personal assistant, brought me to Pontelandolfo’s pharmacy. Since I wasn’t supposed to put pressure on my foot and wasn’t about to hop on cobblestones, I couldn’t get out of the car. Dottoressa Tina Perone raced to the rescue! Pharmacists here can give needles and will – even it that means watching me tremble in my car. Tina opened my car door, I pulled my dress over my head, pulled down my panties and closed my eyes. Hey, did you give me the shot? She had and I hadn’t felt a thing. We went to the pharmacy for the entire week that Jack was gone and I almost happily got my daily needle. Thank you Perone family!
Curbside service didn’t just happen at the pharmacy. Small town life is wonderful. Shop owners helped me, laughed with me and made sure I kept rolling along.
Curbside Service at La Feramenta! I had a new sink installed and needed to buy a faucet. No way could I handle the uneven street with my hop-along walker. The owner of our local hardware store sent out selections for me to choose from. The transaction happened at the car. Thank you Nicola!
Curbside Service at Da Tiziana! Since I was now sleeping in the dining room and folks kept stopping buy to visit and stare at my broken ankle, I needed nightgowns that weren’t tattered and stained. Off we went to our local clothing shop. The owner dashed out with nightgowns. Then, in the street, she and Annarita helped me balance on one foot while I tried them on. Of course, I did that over my clothes! My mamma taught me not to stand naked in the street. We visited her a few times to buy knee socks and other stuff. All carried to the car. Thank you Tiziana!
Curbside Service at Bar Elimar and Bar 2000! Wheelchair in tow, the ever powerful Annarita decided I needed to get out of the house. I sighed. She threw me in the car. We arrived at Bar Elimar and barista, Annette, moved tables around outside so I could easily toss my sorry butt in a chair from the car. Ahhhhh- Campari Spritz please. Another time we went to Bar 2000 and owner, Ghaleb, went out of his way to make me comfortable. Thank you both!
It pays to be a local! Thank you to all those kind and generous Pontelandolfese who fed me, laughed with me and made my thirty days of staying off my foot bearable.