Signs that it's time to go

I'm slowly bouncing back from Monday's emergency room health scare situation. I think I'm OK but the whole thing kind of shook my confidence, and unlike Katie Holmes and Tom Cruise, I don't have an ultrasound machine installed in my home and can't check in on how my pregnancy is progressing daily. I'll just have to have faith that I can distinguish between bad abdominal pains and "normal" abdominal pains (of which there are a lot in this period, unfortunately) and am fine enough to get on a plane next week. I think I'm up to it and have already announced my intention to not participate in the carrying of bags. It's me, a magazine, my plane ticket and a compact stash of healthy snacks to get me through the flight.

The news this morning talked about 11 million people on the roads this weekend. After seven summers here, I know the drill by now - in the next couple of days the news focus will turn to all of the abandoned dogs and cats left on the roadsides because people couldn't be bothered to take them on vacation or board them. Perplexing question: are people so lazy that they can't abandon their pets in an empty field somewhere but have to actually do it on the sides of the Autostrade as they stop for a caffè on the way to the beach? Now that's lazy! And sick. (The poster, by the way, says "He can't speak. Lucky for you.")

I too need to leave. It's in the air. I see signs all around me. Everything in my garden has run its course except the tomatoes, which continue to sprout and go from green to red in the blink of an eye. I used the last of my basil on the terrace last night while the cilantro has long since bolted or made its way into Mexican salsas or guacamoles that I was too sick to eat earlier in the summer. My in-laws are in Cape Verde and while we are here stressed and working, they've been providing vacation highlights via SMS with tales of their hydroplane rides, sunburns and desert dune buggy adventures. In theory, the people working in August should be more relaxed since most likely the boss is away and all they have to do is hold down the fort, answer the phones and perfect their computer Solitaire but the people I've dealt with in the last few days have been so nasty, inflexible or have just had their minds elsewhere.

Case in point. I called yesterday to make an appointment for my eight-month ultrasound, which needs to take place in late November or max early December. I'm calling in month four for something I need to do in month eight because this is the public health care system and if you call too late, you are out of luck.

Central Booking Reservation Man: OK, I can set that up for you. When are you due?

Me: The first week of January.

CBRM: It looks like I can fit you in on January 15th at 11:30 a.m.

Me: Umm, that wouldn't work for me. My actual due date is two weeks before that. I will have no need for an ultrasound then.

CBRM: Signora, I'm only giving you the dates the computer is giving me. Do you want this appointment or not?

Me: I need an ultrasound as prescribed by my doctor in month eight. That is two months too late. Of course I don't want an appointment for a fetal ultrasound after my baby is already born.

CBRM: Signora, you can take it or leave it. I'm just doing my job. Just telling you what the computer tells me.

Learn to think outside of the box, bello! I suppose I should be happy he merely answered the phone, and in August no less. Usually the hospital reservation numbers ring off the hook or are busy for hours on end, forcing you to go there in person and be told there are no appointments or it's the wrong day for appointments or they are only open for reservations from 9 a.m. to 11 a.m. on the third Tuesday after every full moon. Basta burocrazia. I'm ready for a break!