for me to talk about health is seriously problematic for two distinct reasons. The first is that my enormous good fortune to enjoy perfect health, the second is because, as my great misfortune, my relationships with health were mediated by the disease that killed my father.
More than 5 years ago, doctors diagnosed my father to bowel cancer. He was operated within a few days and underwent a course of radiotherapy and chemotherapy for several months after surgery. In the meantime, my sister-in-the my brother's wife, became pregnant and gave birth when the first grandchild of my father, he was well enough to enjoy the joy of becoming a grandfather. As per protocol underwent regular checkups that included CAT scan, blood tests and x-rays. We went on a couple of years, alternating visits to oncology as a psychotherapist until the day he was diagnosed with a recurrence of the liver. He had developed very rapidly between TAC and control the other and before surgery was necessary that was undergoing a further cycle of chemotherapy in an attempt to reduce the tumor mass. When I finally was able to intervene, was admitted to St. Maurice of Turin and the intervention was shown in Congress directed a meeting of surgeons from all over Europe. The operation succeeded but a series of post-operative complications significantly delayed the onset of chemotherapy and, after a year, underwent a new intervention in a lung. This time was better and within a few weeks went back to his grandfather.
Early last year, check-ups show a new line to the liver, this time inoperable.
My father often called her doctor asks about his health and what he could do to earn a little 'more time to do because my grandfather enjoyed a world and had no intention of giving up the game. At
in July but had to surrender the weapons and a few days later, rearranging his medical records, I was shocked by the number of reports that had accumulated in four and a half years. Between X-rays, CT scans, MRIs, ultrasound, blood tests and do not know how many other investigations had filled to capacity a large drawer in the living room furniture, everything strictly by date because my father was an accurate!
There were at least thirty of the large envelopes that are used to hold the sheets of imaging, a couple of binders full of blood and four large medical records, one of Casale Monferrato, one and two of Turin Candiolo . Not in that drawer there were tangible i ricoveri (in quattro anni e mezzo almeno sette mesi li aveva passati in ospedale) e i farmaci (dai chemioterapici agli antibiotici per combattere le infezioni ricorrenti dovute all'immunodepressione, gli antiemetici, gli antipiretici e gli antidepressivi. E infine le visite, almeno un centinaio in tutto.
Credo che una stima ragionevole dei costi che avremmo sostenuto in quegli anni si aggiri intorno ai quindicimila-ventimila euro e difficilmente avremmo avuto modo di accollarceli senza chiedere un finanziamento ad un banca, con l'ovvio risultato che mio padre non avrebbe potuto godere delle migliori cure possibili e che probabilmente la sua battaglia non sarebbe stata così lunga.
Ecco quindi uno dei modi di coniugare la sanità public: it is something that has allowed an ordinary man, without great economic possibilities, to survive long enough for his nephew, a little over four years, now showing a picture and say: "Grandfather Gigi."
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