The Hospital Visit

Memory of my mother.

Angela stretched out on her bed. She had become impregnated with the unmistakable odor of pharmaceuticals, immobilized by pain, and with her soul preparing to return to her Creator, she was retracing in her mind, perhaps for the last time, the dreams and realities of her life. In twenty-nine years, she found more pain than joy. She did not lament the suffering of the past as much as the lost opportunities to taste, even in a distant future, the fruits of her sacrifices. Married at the age of twenty-one, now with two children, she longed to experience the aches and joys of seeing them grow up. Sometimes she even dared imagine herself as an old lady, sitting by the fireplace with a grandchild on her lap listening to her stories of times past. But Grandmother was a magic word not meant for her.

She never imagined such a painful and untimely end to her life. Only child of her father, but second child of her mother who had married a second brother after the death of the first one in World War I, Angela’s early years gave no indication of the suffering to come. Intelligent, vivacious, affectionate, with a keen sense of independence and no fear of work, she easily gained the affection of friends and relatives. These human qualities, rarely seen in full harmony within a single person, acquired more brilliance as she grew older when the small bud of youth developed into a delicate flower. The beauty and fragrance of that flower were noted in particular by Pasquale, a young man whose family’s home was located on the way to a piece of land owned by Angela’s father. He waited hours each day at his parents’ land checking whether she would be passing by on her way to feeding the chickens, and hid behind a large tree as she passed in front of the house.

As he watched her go by the narrow path that meandered through the hillside, he became infatuated with the young woman, and began dreaming of a future together. Not yet capable to support a family but fearful of losing her to someone more financially secure, he decided to ask his cousin Amelia for assistance.

“Amelia, I need a big favor from you. I am crazy about Angela and I cannot imagine spending my life without her. I would like to obtain a promise from her that she will wait for me until I am ready for marriage.”

“I don't think that she will agree to this proposal, Pasquale,” replied Amelia. “You know the rules. Marriage proposals are presented to the parents by a respectful matchmaker.”

“I know that,” Carmelo responded, irritated by his cousin’s reticence. “But if I wait until I am ready, she will be gone, and my life will be over.”

Noticing her cousin’s distress, Amelia agreed reluctantly to convey his message to Angela, but warned him, “Do not expect a positive answer; you may even get in trouble if she tells her father.”

Amelia memorized the words he asked her to say and repeated them to Angela the next time they met.

“Angela here is what my cousin Pasquale wants to tell you: Angela, you have become the owner of my heart. I cannot imagine a life without you. I would marry you today if I had the financial means. I will work day and night to be ready in three years. Will you promise to wait for me?”

Angela was stunned. She had no romantic interest in Pasquale, but she did not want to offend him and jeopardize her friendship with Amelia.

She reflected for a few minutes and then replied, “Amelia, we are good friends, but you know that this is not a proper request. My father would be very angry if he heard about it. I am only seventeen and cannot make such decisions on my own. Tell him he has to wait and then he must follow the traditional steps. I have to guard my honor.”

Amelia understood her friend’s reply and had expected nothing different. She reported the proceedings to her cousin, who continued his routine of waiting for her passage through the narrow path, but no longer hid behind the trees. Angela had no idea that Pasquale’s proposal was not a fleeting response to youthful hormonal surges, but the expression of a morbid infatuation that bordered on insanity. Pasquale seemed unable to separate the two bodies and souls, but forced them into an imaginary union, an inseparable being which received its vital force from the single source of his “love.”

Pasquale’s marriage proposal was not the last one received by Angela, and not the last one refused. She had an understanding with Gaetano, another young man from the village, and had no interest in anyone else, but her mother was dead against such marriage. The disagreement between mother and daughter turned into daily quarrels when Angela received and refused a marriage proposal from a local policeman. Even her father tried to reason with her, but to no avail.

“Angela,” he said to her, “when we are young, we don’t think about practical things, but life is a practical matter. We need a roof over our heads and some way of putting bread on the table. When there are children, the responsibilities are multiplied.”

“But dad,” she replied, “a practical life without love is hell on earth. We are not beasts. We are human beings, and we need more than our daily bread.”

Her mother could hardly contain her anger. “How can you refuse a public official who will offer you the life of a lady at home in order to pursue an unreliable good-for-nothing? Have you lost your senses?”

“I do not love him and I will not marry someone I don’t love,” Angela replied.

“You will marry whomever we choose for you!” exploded her mother. “You are not of legal age and you cannot marry without our consent.”

“Well, then I will have to wait until I am twenty-one to marry Gaetano,” Angela retorted defiantly.

“You will never get my blessing for such a union!” yelled her mother before storming out of the house.

Angela’s mother had no idea of the strength of her daughter’s feelings for Gaetano. It was an infatuation similar to that of Pasquale for Angela; irrational and incomprehensible.

Angela and Gaetano had given serious consideration to the idea of eloping, an act that would have forced a marriage as a consequence of a consummated relationship, but she wanted a normal marriage, in church, with the blessing of God and of her parents. Instead, they decided to remain faithful to each other until they had the freedom to make their own choice without parental consent. Gaetano enrolled voluntarily in the army so that he could be back when Angela had reached the age of 21.

Angela’s relationship with her mother worsened each day. Her father was also opposed to the marriage, but his affection for his only daughter was stronger than his dislike of Gaetano. He tried to comfort her but did not dare disagree openly with his wife.

For his part, Gaetano, who all his life had been used to a wonderful climate and a life with minimum responsibilities, found military life almost unbearable. The rations were scanty, the food was unappetizing, and the cold wind blowing in the mountains of Albania easily penetrated his jacket and tortured his aching bones. Above all, there was the constant fear of dying far away from home and perhaps have his cold body abandoned to the violence of the natural elements and the voracity of carnivores. What would the soul have done in such an ungodly environment? Without a proper burial, the blessings of the priest and the regular prayers of friends and family? How could it have the strength to rise from the body and return to the Creator? Would it remain there, outside the body but still imprisoned, naked, and solitary for eternity? These were the thoughts that shook Gaetan’s being and tortured his mind daily.

For Gaetano, the worst was yet to come. One day, during a skirmish, he was hit by a grenade that destroyed part of his right foot. Half dead with pain, but with an indomitable will to live that served as a potent anesthetic, he dragged himself towards safety, sliding like a snake and using his hands for propulsion. It was a miracle that Gaetano was still alive when he was taken to a hospital where the toes of his right foot were amputated. During the long period of convalescence in the hospital, he had ample opportunity to analyze his situation and evaluate his future prospects. Realizing that this misfortune had destroyed his capacity to support a family, he decided to write to Angela to inform her of his situation and formally release her from their covenant.

Her reply was prompt and short. “I will marry you even if you come back with half of your body.”

The marriage was cursed even before the wedding ceremony was completed. Pasquale had become like an animal at the news of the wedding. He had interpreted Angela’s response to his proposal as a positive one, like oil to feed his love flame while he was waiting for her to reach a suitable age for marriage. With news of her upcoming nuptials, he felt betrayed and promised a terrible vengeance. The very idea of seeing the object of his life’s love happy with another man was unthinkable. “No one will enjoy life with Angela,” he would say.

Angela’s mother no longer had the power to stop the wedding because Angela had reached the age of twenty-one, but she did not forgive her disobedience. Days before the wedding, when friends and relatives came to visit to bring presents and admire the dowry, instead of giving her blessings, she expressed her disapproval with prophetic words like, “I hope you will not enjoy these presents.”

For those who have faith, the evil thoughts of the neighbors are like water that glides over an oily surface. When Angela felt a deep pain in one of her molars the day after the wedding, she thought that it was a response to the sweets eaten the day before. Instead, that pain stayed with her.

As the days went by, the pain expanded to neighbouring teeth and other parts of her body. Though initially the pain was intermittent and uncomfortable but bearable, it still affected her enjoyment of life. She visited the family doctor, but he was unable to explain the cause of this ailment. To avoid looking totally incompetent, he prescribed some type of pill, not because he thought it would be effective against the pain, but because he hoped the pain would go away by itself. He was a recent graduate from medical school, nearly thirty years of age, not originally from the village but now living there, where he had rented a small office. Moreover, he was a friend of Gaetano and in a short time had developed a reputation as a competent doctor.

The day after the doctor’s visit, Angela’s aunt, who lived on the lower floor of the same house, found in the entrance room an orange covered with a large number of pins. She was terrorized because she knew the meaning of such object.

The aunt immediately showed the orange to Veronica, a local middle-aged woman. She was single and had dedicated her life to the study and practice of unconventional health methods. Veronica refused to touch the orange, but analyzed it in details, turning it around with a wood stick.

“This is devil’s work,” Veronica said. “This orange is filled with hate of such intensity, it can kill. Take it right away to the Monsignor.”

Gaetano, Angela, and her aunt went to the house of the Monsignor, bringing the disfigured orange in a bowl so they could avoid making physical contact with it.

“Please, come in and sit down,” he said to the three, placing the object on the table. Then, still standing, he inspected the pierced orange from a distance, coming closer to check its details, and then retreating as if repelled by an evil force. At the end of his inspection, he turned to the women who had observed the procedure in silence, following the Monsignor’s movements with their eyes.

“Evil forces are everywhere, but most of all in the hearts of people,” the Monsignor began. “They fill the very air we breath daily. Burn this orange immediately without touching it or you’ll become contaminated by the pins.”

As the three exited the house, they did not see the Monsignor shaking his head as he closed the door.

Neither the doctor’s pills nor the destruction of the pierced orange stopped the pain which, with the passing of time, started to interfere with Angela’s daily activities. It was time for another visit from the family doctor. He did a thorough check-up of her body but was unable to come up with a useful diagnosis. Having no better ideas than during his first visit, he decided to try a more aggressive treatment, prescribing a type of antibiotics to be administered intramuscularly.

Since in Angela’s village there was no hospital, clinic, or even a nurse, the task of injecting the antibiotic was left to her aunt. Every evening Angela’s aunt boiled water in a pot that contained the syringe with all its parts. Then she filled the syringe with the right amount of antibiotic liquid, injected into a different area of Angela’s buttocks each time, and disinfected the area. Each hole made by the syringe hardened the surrounding area of the flesh, and after a certain number of injections, it was necessary to move to the other side to give the first one a rest and let it return to its normal state. Through this alternating procedure, it was possible to administer a large number of injections.

That uncomfortable and painful treatment gave no results. In fact, it aggravated the situation because Angela began to notice that the initial pain from the injection did not wane but continued through the night and the following day. Moreover, her aunt noticed that the place where she had started the procedure had begun to change color from white to pink.

“Maybe it’s a minor infection,” said Angela’s aunt, comforting her niece whose pain was intensifying every day. “We must do some external treatment with herbal decoctions.”

This double program of injections and decoctions continued for several weeks, but without effect. Angela felt only intensifying pain and her aunt observed the expansion of the pink area. Baffled by these developments, the family decided to call the doctor again. He was as perplexed as they were.

“I have never seen a situation like this,” he repeated while scrutinizing the inflamed area. “I prescribed the most modern and most potent antibiotics,” the doctor said as if talking to himself. “Even the antibiotic cream is the most effective in the market.”

He added in a whisper, “Maybe it is time to take Angela to the hospital and seek the opinion of a specialist.”

Despite his low voice, that terrifying word was heard by everyone and resounded in the room as if amplified by an electric current in the air. It was followed immediately by an eerie silence.

The doctor took advantage of that pause to escape, mumbling with a nearly inaudible tone of voice that he had many other patients to visit.

Hospital. Uttering that sinister word was the same as pronouncing a death sentence. Realizing the gravity of the situation, husband and aunt busied themselves in other rooms of the house to avoid questions from Angela and acting with the ease of those who had been spared the doctor’s last sentence. All three of them remained for a while in the grip of a terrible fear, but unable to exchange with each other the slightest hint of the doctor’s proposal. At this point, unable to come to a meaningful conclusion to this dilemma, Gaetano decided to organize a family reunion, in a different house, which included Angela’s aunt, her father, a cousin, and Veronica.

“Perhaps it is not a bad idea to have the opinion of a doctor from another place,” the cousin pointed out. “He may be older and perhaps not as familiar with modern medicine, but may have more practical experience.”

Angela’s father seemed to support that suggestion, partly because he was not on good terms with the young doctor that had been treating his daughter.

“Don’t be silly,” replied Gaetano. “Our doctor is a good doctor, and he is a good friend. He made the suggestion in order to receive our full support in response. I think he would be offended, considering all his efforts.

At this point, Veronica decided to share her words of wisdom.

“Excuse me,” she said in a calm and calculated manner, “this tragic word should not even be whispered out of respect for Angela. Only the dying are sent to the hospital. Do you know what they do in the hospital with the bodies of the deceased? They cut them into pieces to let them be studied by the medical students. Where a poor devil’s soul goes, nobody knows.”

They all froze at hearing these words. They exchanged stupefied glances with each other, but did not say a word. If seeking a second opinion would offend the family doctor, and if taking Angela to the hospital would represent a death sentence for body and soul, what were they to do?

This question gave Veronica the opening she needed to make her proposal. She straightened her upper body while still sitting in order to project the appearance of wisdom and profound knowledge. With a tone appropriate to the gravity of the situation, she started her brief sermon.

“As the Bible says, life is full of mysteries. The universe is saturated with evil spirits that hit at random and at their whim. This is the opinion of the Monsignor, not just mine.”

She knew well the reputation the Monsignor had in the village.

 “Medical treatments, old or new, have no power over these dark forces. In these cases, we need the help of supernatural powers. You know what Monsignor said when you showed him the pierced orange.”

These profound words, pronounced with extreme conviction, required a moment of reflection.

The cousin took the initiative to start a debate.

“Donna Veronica, what is the meaning of these supernatural forces? Are you speaking of a potent evil-eye?”

“Not at all,” she replied with an air of superiority. “The evil-eye is a joke compared to what we are facing. In these situations, not even the power of a priest will do.”

She stopped here, as if she were trying to distribute her wisdom in bites small enough to be digested by what she considered to be the limited intellectual abilities of the three men.

“But donna Veronica, who has those powers?” Gaetano was getting impatient with her roundabout approach.

Aware of Gaetano’s rising blood pressure, Veronica finally came out with the details of her proposal. “The lady who has the power to defeat these evil spirits lives in the village of Torrebassa. She does not like to make house calls because she prefers to do her job discreetly. On rare occasions she has been known to make an exception and visit the afflicted people in their homes. I know her well. If you accompany me, I will visit her and explain the gravity of the situation and the urgent need for her help.”

Next morning, Veronica, Gaetano, and his cousin showed up at the village bus station, but she stood aside and then sat in a seat at a distance from the two men in order not to create suspicions among the other passengers. When the bus passed through Torrebassa, the two men got off about one kilometer earlier than Veronica, then the three were reunited down the road after the bus had gone by and walked together towards the house of the expert. There was nothing peculiar about the house of the expert, either inside or out, nor about her appearance or her behavior. She was a small woman of advanced age, unassuming, and showing no signs of special powers or abilities. Veronica explained the situation with the help of periodic nodding from Gaetano and his cousin, and implored the expert to offer her help to save Angela’s the body and soul. The expert asked no questions and made no comments.

At the end of the session, she simply said she was willing to visit Angela. They decided on the date of the visit. Gaetano paid in advance for her services, they all thanked the old lady, and the three returned to the village.

The expert came for the visit a few days later, at night. She travelled by taxi directly to Veronica’s house who, under the cover of darkness, accompanied her to Angela’s house. The expert entered the bedroom holding a large bag, but never mentioned what was inside. She sent everyone outside and remained with Angela for about an hour. Then she returned to Veronica’s house without uttering a word and returned home with the same taxi.

Nobody was ever told what she did or said to Angela. All that became evident was that her condition continued to worsen. The initial pink dots that slowly had spread like a drop of blood in a dish of water, had now become flaming red. The doctor was called again. This time he realized that antibiotic creams had become useless and decided to operate immediately. That was the fatal blow. The flesh, already infected, accelerated its decomposition as it was exposed to the air.

Angela, imprisoned in bed for some time, continued to suffer without complaints. In a final act of desperation, and ignoring all advice to the contrary, Gaetano decided to take his wife to the city hospital. Angela remained in the hospital for a few days to give the specialist time to perform the necessary tests.

When the specialist completed all the analysis, he called aside Gaetano and his father-in-law. The expression on his face did not hide the anger he had inside.

“Why did you bring her to me at this late hour?” he exclaimed with a tone of accusation. “Who do you think I am, Jesus Christ raising the dead from the grave? Here we cure the sick, we do not resuscitate the dead!”

He stopped for a moment to restore his composure and then continued, this time with a calmer tone. “You should have brought her here six months ago. By now she would be fully cured. At this point there is nothing anyone can do.”

Without even a glance, he turned around and left. The nurse, who had remained motionless and speechless in a corner of the room, made the sign of the cross and whispered softly, “God’s will be done.”

“That’s not God’s will,” yelled Angela’s father, “that’s human stupidity and incompetence.”

After the funeral, life in the village returned to its normal flow, following the seasons of nature and the customs of men. Gaetano moved to his parents’ house and two years later remarried. Angela’s father never fully recovered from the loss of his beloved daughter and occasionally on Sunday evenings was seen walking through the village streets mumbling to himself.

Pasquale never married. When a friend hinted at a possible marriage opportunity, he always replied with the same words, “If you want me to get married you must first pull out my eyes, because in my life I have only seen one woman.” The only one unable to join in this new normalcy was Angela, whose soul was in heaven, but her body was six feet under a marble slab in the local cemetery.