While Marino was in the hospital, his condition
deteriorated. George and his mother drove there every two or three days to take
him water and food, but neither of them was well enough to endure an all-night
stay. Marino complained that he wasn’t receiving the medication prescribed by
the doctors. When he asked the nurses for it they would say “Later,” and then
never come back. Because he was so sick, it was hard to tell how much of what
he said was true, and how much he just couldn’t remember. There was no one present
from the family to check on what medication he was receiving and when. To make
things worse, between the noise in the hallway and his persistent cough, he
wasn't sleeping at all. He stayed for ten days and then insisted on leaving.
When the doctors refused to discharge him because he was so ill, he made up a
story about having to catch a flight back to California the next day.
When George and his mother arrived, the doctor gave
them a supply of medication and syringes along with a list showing when to give
what, covering every couple of hours that day and "on the plane" the
day after. He also gave them a sealed letter for the doctor in California. A
nurse even trained Rina how to give the injections by practicing on an orange.
George told me that when he saw all the directions and the needles, it scared
him badly.
He described what happened when the doctor left Marino's hallway bedside.
“Papa, I think you should stay here. They know how to
look after you…” George had said.
“No. Those damn nurses never give me what I need! If
I’m going to die, it’s not going to be here. You take me home now, Giorgio.”
In his anger he choked, started coughing, and clutched
at his chest in pain, scaring George even more. At that Rina picked up Marino’s
case from under the bed and swept his few things into it. She knew there was no
use arguing.
When George realized his father had made up his mind
to leave the hospital, he said, “OK, then how about we drive to the airport
right now, and I put you both on a plane to California? We can call Olga and
Willis to meet you in Los Angeles, and they can take you straight to St.
Joseph’s Hospital.”
This time it was Rina, “No, no, I’m too sick. I can’t
travel and also take care of him.”
Marino added: “You heard what the doctor said, I’m too
sick to fly. And what about the smallpox shot?
They won’t let us back into the States without it. Stop talking, and
help me get dressed! I’m going home.”
George figured he’d raised his father’s blood pressure
too much already. Defeated, he did as he was told, dreading what might lie
ahead as he drove them back to Gabi.
(Note: The story of our
move to Italy starts with "Arrival"
on the June 26, 2017 blog post.)
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