Naples. A letter published by a patient at the Fatebenefratelli Hospital in Naples is sparking a social media debate. She complains about the less-than-humane treatment she received in a supposedly excellent facility, where she was forced to sleep on blood-stained, stinking sheets. In a lengthy post, accompanied by photos, the woman recounts her "misadventure" at the hospital on Via Manzoni. "I thank my husband and wife... for allowing me to draw attention, through this letter, to the need for prevention, including institutional measures, for all those who may find themselves in the same situation as me," she explained in the post, which was first published on a group discussing health issues and then inexplicably removed by the administrators after it had received numerous shares. But she didn't lose heart and reposted it on her Facebook profile. Here's her story:
“Dear nurses and doctors of the Intensive Care Unit of the Fatebenefratelli Hospital in Naples, yes you, the same ones who laughed in my face, who talked behind my back, who openly offended me, as if I were a crazy shrew just because I asked you for a little cleanliness, a little respect, a minimum of attention. All things owed not to me Emilia Rosati, as a person, but to me, as a sick person, to me, like all sick people. Like those who, like me, were brought to you after having won the battle of life over death.
A battle that each of us, of you, will find ourselves facing, and which, at that moment, will require the help, human compassion, professionalism, and last but not least the education of other human beings, even more so if they have chosen (and I hope it was a truly free choice) to carry out such a beautiful, honorable, I would say holy, profession as yours.
To you, whose name I don't know, but who let me sleep a day and a night between blood-stained, smelly sheets, on which I had to spray a bottle of deodorant to be able to breathe, and who when I asked you why you did it you replied that "it was my blood anyway", I ask you: would you have let your mother sleep in those conditions?
To you, or rather to the four of you, because there were four of you, all in front of me, after, due to a shovel that was badly placed (but of course it was my fault for having moved) my sheets got wet and you agreed to wash me, I say accepted because I had to beg you, but no big deal, if you hadn't exposed me completely to the eyes of the entire room in front and even of the corridor where the door to the ward looks out (while with a small gesture you could have pulled the curtain that was placed there on purpose), I ask you: if your mother had been in my place, would you have pulled that curtain?
Dear nurse, when I begged you with my eyes not to do the ultrasound with a cotton ball that fell on the floor and was quickly picked up again, when I asked you to remove the sponge you gave me to disinfect from my table, when I begged for things related to cleanliness, or rather, even more so to decorum, you replied that this is an intensive care unit and that "we have other priorities here".
I congratulate you on the important work you do, but I wonder if, as in any organization, there is a division of labor here, so that, probably, even while you are dealing with really serious cases, there will also be a cleaner to call, sooner or later. And if there wasn't, perhaps it would be enough for your colleague not to sit next to my neighbor's bed to chat.
Yes, I know, you can't be nice to everyone, and I haven't been nice to you at all, maybe because I'm used to always saying thank you when I receive something, but when my right or that of others in my same conditions isn't respected, I have the bad habit of still believing that justice exists and I feel the need to invoke it. From this point of view, I have remained an adolescent utopian: yes, I believe that justice exists and that, in place of those who have no ability or desire, many young unemployed people should enter. And that's the only reason why I'm writing to you now, not as a reproach for its own sake, and even less to ask for an apology that, given the background, would never come.
The unity in defending each other is what shocked me the most. I also appealed to the intellectual honesty of each of you, including the doctor, but the most important thing was to defend you, to be united in not admitting that you were wrong.
Everyone makes mistakes. Sometimes all it takes is a little humility to admit it. And that is not given by a degree or a diploma.
I will not stop here, because no one, even those who do not have the tools or the attitude to defend themselves, should feel humiliated as you have made me feel.
To the next sick person, please think of your mother."
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