Column: fever

It is Saturday morning when I look at my phone half asleep and see a message in the home app. “Guys, I'm sorry, I really can't join you for breakfast because my friend is very sick. He has a fever so I have to take care of him.' Somewhat surprised I get out of bed and in the hallway I meet my German roommate who looks just as surprised as I do. Then we hear the door to the kitchen open and our Sicilian roommate comes over to us armed with a pot of tea, lemons and balms. "It's really bad guys, he has a fever of 37,9 degrees!"

Medication

Next to me I hear my German roommate almost choke with laughter and I also have to hold back a lot. "Gosh, 37,9 degrees… But he can be alone for a while, can't he?" I ask carefully. "No, definitely not!" says my roommate firmly. "He is ill, and is in such a condition that I also want to ask you to go to the pharmacy for medication." She presses a note in my hand with the desired recipe on it. Then she walks to her bedroom and closes the door.

culture clash

I look at my German roommate and we walk out with the corners of our mouths trembling, where we look at each other again in disbelief and cannot suppress the laughter. "37,9 degrees and then talk about a fever and pretend he's given up?" my German roommate says, looking at me wide-eyed. "I've never experienced this." We decide this one culture clash with coffee and a good brioche before going to the pharmacy.

It seems to be called a fever

After breakfast we walk to the pharmacy where I tell the saleswoman with a straight face that we need a certain type of medicine for a sick roommate. When she looks at the note, she can't suppress a long frown and looks at us sharply. 'How many degrees of fever is it? You can only take this dose from 38 degrees fever. How many degrees is it?' she asks us again. "Well, uh, about 38,0 or 38,5," my German roommate lies.

The saleswoman looks at us again sharply and sees that the corners of our mouths begin to tremble with laughter. 'Gentlemen, does it happen to be a italian man?' she asks us, also with the same quivering corners of her mouth. And the moment my German roommate and I shout 'yes' in unison, the saleswoman also laughs.

'Oh, you have been sent out on another mission. Well, take these 500 gram tablets with you, and he'll be back on top in no time.' She shakes her head and gives us the medicine and mumbles something like 'men… toddlers'. We return home with the medicines under our arms.

No, no salt

When we get home we hand over the medicines to our roommate. 'Thanks guys, I just canceled our weekend away, it's way too hard for him now. He should lie down and rest.' Then she starts preparing a very responsible lunch for her and for him.

After a while, her boyfriend stumbles along, coughing, and flops down on the kitchen chair. "Uuughhh, no, not that much salt, I can't take that." Then he takes a bite of his food with great difficulty, closes his eyes and says he is too tired to eat. 'I have to go back to sleep, I can't get anything out like this'. And completely disoriented, he walks back to the bedroom. 'Fortunately, the fever is less,' says my Sicilian roommate. 'It is now almost 37,0 degrees, only that coughing will remain for a while.'

Time for a course of antibiotics

Three days later he is still coughing and my Sicilian roommate (and doctor in training) is exhausted with tension and foresees that he has a terrible illness among the members. She sends him to the doctor. And not to his own doctor but to her general practitioner. 'Because he knows what's really going on. I've already spoken to him.'

In the afternoon he comes home with a prescribed course of antibiotics and a device to provide him with extra oxygen during the day. I decide not to interfere further and to let them find out together how sick they are and how often this is communicated per day, because yes: my Sicilian roommate also had a fever of 38 degrees at one point and decided to take a day off. to go into quarantine.

Beautiful cultural differences

You know, every time I am amazed by this special country and its people. Its inhabitants, some of whom are very generous, open and creative on the one hand, and on the other fearful, very emotional and in the case of illness almost hypochondriac.

Did you know, for example, that children do not wet hair are allowed to go outside, because otherwise they will catch a cold and get sick? Or that you have to take a scarf with you to the supermarket because the transition from heat to coolness can be too great and you can therefore have the flu in one fell swoop? And that while in the Netherlands we often don't have time to dry our hair and quickly run out the door to work or to school?

One great tragedy

I find it fascinating and with great pleasure (and sometimes with a huge laugh too) I watch this opera, because living in Italy is like living in an opera: Grand and Immersive with a lot of Tragedy.

But oh well, that's why there is a lot of beautiful opera, a lot of culture, art, love for real, pure and honest. So let them go on the antibiotics and pretend every now and then the last hour has struck.

When they are completely recovered after two months (not only physically but especially mentally – 'remember when I was so sick?') it's fun again.

Italians, you continue to amaze me.

Photo: Pixabay