“Doctor, doctor I think I’ve got subjunctivitis.”

“Don’t you mean conjunctivitis?”

“Would that it were doctor, would that it were.”

Now then, joking aside Italian bureaucracy is not without its challenges, my experience so far has largely been wading through trying to get appointments, lack of opening hours (I’m coming back as a civic office worker in Italy…), endless forms, conflicting advice and some super helpful people but also some which caused me to eye roll as I walked away, so hard, my eyes nearly lolled down the stone steps.  

Having secured my health card last summer – which only took three appointments and a rinsing to the tune of 2000 sheets (that’s Euros btw), I was really happy when they offered me an English speaking GP. Over here your GP or primary medic is your gateway (no, not that sort of drugs) to the rest of the health system, he or she dolls out your prescriptions, does the usual BP checks and so on, but also refers you if you need to see a specialist, have a blood test etc. He’s super nice and we always have a chat. So far so good, but there is always ‘a but’, otherwise where would the future eye rolling opportunities be? Once you get an email with a barcode on and confirming you need to make an appointment with a specialist, you then have to either go to a pharmacy and stand in line while they look on the national health website, also known as CUP, which to you is – Centro Unico di Prenotazione, or find your way solo, around the online portal.

Mistake number one, don’t do this in the pharmacy if you have anything remotely embarrassing like say a urine or poo test, as this is Italy and they are a nation of voluminous over sharers. (Almost shouting) ‘Is this for the full culture madam…?’  Far safer to spend ages trying to work it out the long way, and realise that you have to book the appointment yourself, and that’s assuming there are any available. Once you do this, you sometimes have a small co-pay to complete (more fun), then you are in and have your appointment. However don’t for goodness sake expect to be seen again at the same hospital or by the same consultant, as yes you’ve guessed it… you need to repeat all this again if you have to go back. Unless that is, you get a really nice doctor who will tap one out for you. When I went for my mammogram the radiographer was incredible, as I’d been struggling to get an appointment for a follow-up MRI, and she took my CUP slip and wrote an email for me, insisting they see me pronto. I’d not got to the cafe up the road for a coffee, before an offer of an appointment popped up on my phone. I stopped on the way back to my car to take her some flowers. Italy is ranked as one of the best healthcare providers in the world, and some days it is very clear exactly why.

The lovely hospital at Citta della Pieve.

Anway, back to the story… I’m in the hospital at this point, but hang on, don’t be thinking you can just go straight up to level 2, that’s if you can find it, as apparently whoever puts up signs in hospitals was on annual leave. Made that mistake with 5 minutes to spare and got sent back downstairs to their very own hospital CUP office to get my already booked and paid for appointment, printed out and stamped so I can go back upstairs again. They love as big a paper trail as you can carry around with you. Okay, back upstairs again… this one was the eye hospital, and can I say the consultant I saw was nothing short of remarkable; once you’ve played 4 rounds of Dungeons and Dragons getting there, the medical staff are amazing. I got lost on the way, due to the zero signs situation… even ended up on an ICU ward, the ICU nurse took pity on me and walked with me to the eye department. I then had the most thorough and well explained eye check and at the end they handed me a handwritten note of how and where and what I needed prescribing, which… yep, got to go back to my GP for, and told to come back in 3 months.

Italian Healthcard

After I sat in the café for 3 hours looking wasted, as my pupils were so dilated that I couldn’t see the floor, I made it back home. Now, you could be excused for thinking the story ends there, but non, non, non. When I went back, 3 months later and saw a completely different consultant, they asked me where the note was that the previous doctor had given me. I didn’t have it, and then I realised that all your appointments and results aren’t held on any kind of central system, it’s down to you to bring it each time and show it to whomever you see next. Aaaaaagh. 

Doctor, my eyes, tell me what is wrong

I was unwise to leave them open for so long

Lyrics by: Jackson Browne

A while later I was back at the GP having my flu vaccination, he asked how I’d got on at the hospital and which consultant I’d seen…. ‘Was she the one who was a bit fat?’ he asked. I looked horrified and said, you can’t say that. ‘Oh,’ he said, ‘you mean she was the one with the moustache?’  

A moustache, a moustache

If you’ve only got a moustache

Lyrics by: Amick Byram

And there we have it, the general lack of PC etiquette, and that also reminds me of when I had an echo ultrasound to check the whereabouts of a kidney stone. I got to the surgery – which was his private one this time, as he doesn’t do them on the NHS system. ‘Take your clothes off and lie down…’, then he sniggered and said, ‘oh that sounds a bit sexy.’ Lucky for me I have a sense of humour, but there is no nurse chaperone, so I was left thinking how different it is to the UK. 

But the final treat was at the end, while he typed up a report for me and went over the results. It was €120 if I wanted a receipt or €70 if it was cash…. And this is totally normal and above board in Italy.  

The next time I was back seeing the consultant, I of course had a different one and a totally different hospital (this time, I went to the CUP office first and had my notes from the first time ready in a folder).

There were two ladies in the consultation, one of them was clearly in wind down for Christmas mode, with lashings of tinsel (nurse). The doctor then proceeded to tell me that the issue was my back and did I have an Italian boyfriend? (Not sure if the two were meant to be related, oi oi), I said no and then they both started discussing their dating debacles and telling me I was a clever woman to be swerving the Italian male. The nurse apparently had been ghosted recently and was still stinging as she wanted the chance to dump him first. But before I knew it I was out the door with dating tips from the pre-Christmas medical tag-team, and holding a slip with ‘bad back’ written on it.  

Back at my GP’s, who said they always try and avoid seeing anyone for actual clinical treatment. Who knew, Carry on Doctor! 

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