“It is, what it is”


Efficiency is not a word that can be translated into Italian. Today I had to venture out to the Public Medical Clinic to have some blood work done. We waited over an hour and I was completely stunned when it was my turn. I walked into the tiny room and saw not one, but two nurses AND a doctor, all waiting to take my blood. Are you kidding me? Is this really necessary? No wonder taxes are so high in this country!

It was another adventure with Mama of course and I can honestly say that I have decided to take the Dropaxin against my better judgement because if I don’t I’m afraid I may lose my mind anyways. Today will hopefully be the last time I will have to go anywhere in a car or otherwise with her. I opted to let her drive today because I didn’t know exactly where the clinic was. As usual, she raced there like she was in a Rally and I had to ask her why she thought it was necessary to pass a car in front of us when clearly he was doing the speed limit.

I realize that the medical system here is inefficient, but the fact remains the same, “it is, what it is”. We had to wait, but that was to be expected. I had no lessons in the morning and although I am sure both of us could think of a thousand other things we would rather be doing, the song remains the same, ” it is, what it is”.

I am not the sort of person to roll over and play dead, but there are certain things in life that I just accept. Mama, on the other hand thinks quite differently. Not there three minutes, she started knocking on doors and raging about how the numbers on the board hadn’t changed. She insisted on raging against the system and although I am sure everyone agreed with her, she was taking it up in the wrong forum. She doesn’t vote when elections are happening, so I am not sure if I can sit by and accept her raging with a calm sense of entitlement. But, I don’t understand how the Italian system works and so I kept my mouth shut. I just asked her to relax and settle into a chair and be patient.

Our next stop was the supermarket. This was not part of my plan, however, I will go and give her a hand because she just assisted me with my tests. We didn’t need much so we grabbed 2 hand baskets and gathered what we needed quickly (with the exception of the 5 minute smelling exercise of the lemons for reasons I am not quite clear on).

I suggested the self check-out option and that is when, as they say in England, everything went a bit “pear-shaped”. Seems that Mama was concerned that we were over our 15 items limit. This only makes me laugh because she is more than willing to park the car illegally for 1.5 hours on a very busy road with the 4-way lights going but it’s not okay to have 16 items at the check-out! (for the record we had 13)

I proceeded to scan the items but the machine was giving me messages in English about the weight of my items. Mama started to get agitated and kept insisting that I get someone to help us. Again, I told her to relax and that the machine was confused because 1 basket was on the floor. She continued to pace and complain and again I said, its under control. The guy came over and could see what the issue was and said to proceed.

I guess this was not satisfying to Mama because instead she decided to yell at me for having my purse open and on top of the machine. I will admit, I had finally reached my breaking point. I said what’s the problem? It is right in front of both of us, we can clearly see it and it is within arms reach. I paid for the groceries and she was still raging about robbers stealing my mobile phone out of my pocket on a crowded bus last summer. I started yelling and then she had the nerve to ask me if I had started to take the Dropaxin yet.

Of course this just pissed me off even more that she thinks I am now acting abnormally because she has pushed my buttons enough to make me explode. Great! So now I NEED drugs to cope with your reckless driving and impatience, yes, this makes perfect sense to me! She gunned it out of the parking space and hit the car next to us. Again, must somehow be my fault.

I came home, quietly put the groceries away and then took the MAXIMUM dose of Dropaxin.
Sometimes it just “is, what it is.”

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About lmarmstrong66

I'm a blogger, painter, writer, singer. For the love of all things in nature and creativity.
This entry was posted in Italian Culture, Mama and tagged . Bookmark the permalink.

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