Most people are kind and competent (within limits…)

Buondì.

I’m back, though a shadow of my former self, hobbling through the house, fearful lest an uncontrolled movement or unexpected cough set off agonies in my groin.

This not helped by the fact that, having been sent home from hospital, the day after my operation, with six sachets of a potent non-opiod pain-killer (to see me through the expected week or so of misery), I diligently followed the instructions emblazoned on the packet to READ THE INSTRUCTIONS BEFORE TAKING.

There were no instructions, just the sachets, but no problem, I Googled the drug, just to be on the safe side. And found out that it shouldn’t be used together with the other medications that I’m on.

Bummer.

I was discharged on the Saturday of a three-day holiday weekend, when all but emergency medical services are suspended in Italy. Hence I’m managing post-op pain with just paracetamol (known as acetaminophen in the USA, apparently), which “relieves mild-to-moderate pain”.

Oh well, it’s better than nothing, and the pain reminds me not to jump around the place like a spring rabbit, so risking breaking open the stitches and so on.

Anyway, being in hospital, along with the various pre-op and post-op visits, is always a good opportunity to observe and interact with people. I work from home most of the time, so value the chance to meet people, even theater nurses, cleaning staff, and the like. Even idiot doctors.

Besides being interested in people (I taught adults for decades), I’m also fascinated by systems, the ones that work, and the ones that don’t.

For instance, that the pre-op evaluations established clearly what my usual meds were, yet I was discharged by the kind, friendly surgeon who’d reaked havock with my insides, with the same standard pain-killer given to everyone.

Oh well, shouldn’t moan. Internet research suggests I would have been better off, for multiple reasons, having my op with Britain’s NHS, not that that was an option. But also that I’d likely have waited much longer for it.

And that if I lived in the USA I’d have had to pay between $5000 and $14000 for the ‘intervento’. The cost in Italy has been €0, so far.

Così. Let’s look on the positive side (I have a list of moans so long I could go on all day…) and say that most people are kind and competent, at least within reasonable limits.

So there’s no reason you/we/I should fear to step out into the world and experience its wonders, including the joys of Italian hospitals. The food wasn’t bad, at least.

Forza, coraggio, as Italians say (strength! courage!)

The worst-case scenario will probably not occur. Most of the time things work for the general good, the majority of us living long and uneventual lives as a result.

And yet…

Saturday I got back home, basically in agony, switched on the laptop, just to check that there was nothing urgent to deal with, after being offline for twenty-four hours, and found that I had been the victim of a crime.

I’ll spare you the details, but the gist of it is that one of our websites was hit by an automated attack which generated TENS OF THOUSANDS of orders in just the few hours I wasn’t at my laptop.

The credit card processing company picked up on what was going on in just miliseconds, so started refusing the payments (and sending me terse emails!)

But that still left me with over twenty-five thousand failed orders in my online shop, all from the same automated source.

And about a thousand Gmails (“You have a new order!”), though the Gmail boys, bless ’em, got the message after the first thousand or so and didn’t disturb me with the other twenty-four thousand notifications.

I spent Saturday and Sunday deleting failed orders, a hundred at a time, which is the most our system can handle. I’ve probably spent eight hours on it so far – sitting and standing, as sitting hurts –  and still have five thousand to do!

Plus, I had to learn how to install one of those irritating reCaptcha things (“Tick this box if you are human”). It was, at least, free, – thanks again, Google – though I had to pay an annual fee for the software to make it compatible with my shop.

And install that, and then the reCaptcha, and test everything. But what a pain!

Not as much as my groin, but still not what you want to deal with on a holiday weekend.

Lessons learned?

Most people are kind and competent (within limits…)

Always read the small print that comes with your meds.

There are wicked people out there, who don’t care that they ruined my convalescence/holiday weekend.

The reCaptcha things, though irritating, are there for a reason. Your favourite website is vulnerable without them.

N.b. Because of all of the above, the usual ‘Half-price eBook of the Week’ offer is postponed a few days.

A mercoledì.

P.S.

Did you find time for Saturday’s bulletin of ‘easy’ Italian news?

If not, why not read/listen to it today? There’ll be another tomorrow (Tuesday) and another on Thursday.

Subscribing is FREE, so there’s no cost reason why you shouldn’t develop a habit of reading in and listening to Italian.

The problem, as always, is motivation. But a journey of a thousand miles begins with just a single step, as they say.

Click here to read/listen to Saturday’s bulletin.

Done? That wasn’t so bad, was it?

You could do that three times a week, couldn’t you? It’s FREE, remember.

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