My longest stay ever.

Three of my eight days in an Italian hospital were spent in an emergency ward. In a four-bed room. Full most of the time. And to overflow, occasionally. When a patient or two on gurneys were rolled in. And it was noisey. Well into the night.  With patients stacked in the hallways. Waiting for formal admission. Everything was more subdued and quiet. When I was transferred to the cardiac care wing. Where I shared a room with one other patient.  It was pleasant.  On the hospital's fifth floor. Where I had a stunning view of rolling green hills, orange tiled rooftops and the Mediterranean Sea, some 20 miles off in the distance.  The food was good, too. Typical Italian fare. Pasta. Scalipini. Boiled potatoes. Minnestrone soup. Veggies. Rolls. Bottled water. Occasionally a baked apple for dessert. But only caffee latte and melba toast for breakfast.  No complaints from me. Though some of the Italians suggested the food could have been better. Anyway, the room was nicely painted. And very clean. The bed comfortable. And adjustable.  Of course, I'm never totally relaxed in a hospital setting. Wish I were home. But I made the best of my longest stay ever in a hospital.  --Jim Broede