Don’t Let Me Die in Rome

For our final days in Venice, we bought vaporetto passes, which meant we could ride the boats through the canals as much as we wanted. We tried to ride on the back of the boat, open to the elements, but those seats are highly prized. Unfortunately Rick Steves, the travel guru, recommends that tourists ride there to see Venice. Since the vaporettos are crowded, we had to take seats in the enclosed center section. All around us people were coughing. Dan recalls a woman sneezing on us. That is when we believe we contracted the flu.

I was coughing and headachy on the way to Santa Lucia, the Venice train station. We stopped at a farmacia, a pharmacy, to get medicine. Italy is not like the States, where you can go to a drugstore and get over the counter medicine. Lucky Dan’s Italian is excellent. He was able to tell the pharmacist about my cough and sore throat. He also admitted that he too suffered from these ailments. We bought the nasty tasting expectorant the pharmacist recommended and took it before we boarded.

I slept deeply on the fast train to Rome and felt refreshed as we leapt into a taxi that took us through crazy, hectic traffic. In our new digs I began to flag. Dan went out to buy water, while I rested. That night we went to a restaurant recommended to us. Italians eat late. The restaurant didn’t open until 6:30, so we walked around until then. I was good and tired and feeling a little woozy when we sat down.

By the next morning my cough had deepened, my sinuses ached, and my throat was on fire. Dan was coughing but felt well enough to go out and get fruit. He also had his beloved coffee a doppio espresso. All day I languished in bed, coughing, sleeping, and taking our meds. Dan kept returning with goodies like a muffin filled with chocolate. I know I am sick when I can’t eat something like that.

By evening I felt so bad that my drama queen came out. Dan was rubbing my back when I turned over and said, “Don’t let me die in Rome.” All day when I was awake I had been thinking about home, my house in Falls Church, my son in DC, my friends all over, and, yes, my cat, Zelda Marie Herbert, who in her own odd feline way has always comforted me when I was not feeling well. How difficult it is to be sick and far from home.

Dan laughed and assured me I wasn’t going to die. He went out and got us something to eat, which he brought back. This isn’t easy since “carry-out” is not widely accepted in Rome.

During the night Dan’s symptoms got worse. Now we are both coughing deeply from our chests and our throats are sore. We slept late and forced ourselves up and out to sightsee. By late afternoon we were weary. Another night of coughing and slight fever ensued.

If we were home we could call Lost Dog Café for a goodies delivery and stream movies on a giant flat screen. As it is we are in a room with no television and sketchy wifi. Not that this really matters. The truth is I love to be with Dan. We always find things to talk about, laugh about, and be grateful for. We know we are blessed.

Still we have stuffy noses and hacking coughs, so we worry about our flight back to the States. Secretly I am counting down the hours, for I long to be homeward bound. Yet I know I am home when I am with this man I love.