
Type A response: "No, I have appointments this morning. Take 2 aspirin and go back to sleep."
Sleep alludes me, but I go on to my meeting with the pool contractor at Casi di Sotto. Shared owners of this home will want a pool in the summer, but it is not a trivial project. We discuss the intricacies of obtaining a pool permit, and he explains that in Gaiole, it should not be too bad...only 5-6 months! But his idea of the pool location and a surrounding terrace will blend well with the design of Casi di Sotto, and it's a very simple and cost-effective design. And, the work itself would be done by next spring. So this is good news.
In Volpaia we discuss a water feature that will enhance what is already a beautiful terrace.
Alas, the pain persists. I drive to Castellina and am scheduled to meet Valeria, our onsite property manager, for meetings in Siena. But by lunchtime, I am getting a tad freaked out. Enough to suggest to her that I was not up to getting lost (the last time I drove in Siena I ended up being photographed illegally driving through the Piazza del Duomo), and plan on going back to Radda to see a doctor, just in case.
Many travellers wonder what would happen if they or a member of their family were to get sick in Italy. You hear stories. You wonder how you will find the hospital, or how to call for help. So, it works like this.
We are in the countryside, and the doctors in the area float from town to town, and share duties like an on-call system works in the U.S.
I wait for Valeria at Pizza Pie (obviously a favorite). Luigi forces me to eat (of course), and Valeria makes calls around to locate the nearest available doctor. Today there is a doctor in Radda, between the hours of 4 and 6pm.

Going to the emergency ("Pronto Soccorso") is always an option, but I resist, so we go to the local office and wait our turn. Italian healthcare is socialized, and there are no questions about insurance, how you will pay and no HIPA forms. A welcome experience, but strange.
By 5pm, the doctor as well as the paramedics next door have recommended that I go to the hospital in Siena (on a Friday night!), and I resist. A quick call to my internist back home convinces me that it is the best course.
Let me define a friend. One who tells you the truth. One who understands (and listens) to the reasons that you want to be stupid. One who puts your needs above their own and waits SEVEN hours in the lobby while you get poked, prodded, and left to succumb to TB amidst dozens of hacking, elderly women late on a Friday night.
A full 17 hours later, I have been diagnosed and medicated for a blood clot in my leg. Again, at no cost. Even as a foreign national. And yes, it took a while, but there was no question about being properly cared for, despite the language problem.
And this is how I spent Friday. I was lucky. And I have good friends.
Ciao for now!