The next morning I woke up to find Tim sitting by my bedside. We had both had a pretty restless night and just wanted to get out of the hospital. A while later Franco and Nona arrived bearing gifts of Italian biscuits. Nona chatted away to us in a mixture of pigeon English, Italian and gestures while Franco went to talk to some of the doctors to find out what was happening. He must have had quite a big influence as the next thing I knew I was being summoned for an examination before being told I was being discharged from the hospital. The doctor wrote me a prescription for various antibiotics and filled in all the other paperwork, and after a bit of convincing wrote me a crude handwritten note to take back to my doctor in the UK. Before we knew it we were being escorted out of the hospital and into Franco's car. He drove us to a nearby cafe for a coffee stop before continuing to a pharmacy where the English speaking pharmacist explained the complicated course of antibiotics I would need over the next few days. Somehow Franco wouldn't let us know the price of the prescription and insisted on paying, we were completely humbled by he and Nona's generosity towards us. They then drove us back to our hotel where they explained our ordeal to the hotel owners, who then substantially reduced our room rate and insisted we stay another night to recover before continuing with our journey south towards Sicily. After saying goodbye to our new Italian family we escaped to the peace and quiet of our hotel room where we spent the remainder of the day resting and letting the events of the past 48 hours sink in.
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