Snowfall in Venice

Emergency!

THE EMERGENCY!

With our newfound freedom, Gayle and I set about exploring the wonders of the Venetian Islands, but always under the watchful eye of the hulking Carlos.

"I don't think Carlos likes us, Mark. Every time he looks at us, I have the feeling he can hardly wait to take a knife to our hands."

I laughed. "I know the guy looks sinister, but as long as The Don needs us, we should be safe enough."

We were enjoying a lazy early spring day at a small café on the edge of Piazza San Marco. I had ordered a whole bottle of chilled prosecco, the contents of which were making us a little reckless.

I whispered to my wife, "Let's see if we can ditch our shadow for a few minutes and have some fun!"

After paying the bill, I rose and took Gayle by the hand. We started to walk away from the café. Carlos had been leaning against a nearby wall, keeping an eye on us. When he saw us start to leave, he immediately began to follow. I was silently nudging Gayle in the direction of the Grand Canal, where several gondolas were bobbing gently at the dock.

When we got within twenty paces or so of the dock, I broke into a run, and we jumped onto the nearest waiting vessel. The startled gondolier stood speechless until Gayle instructed him to depart quickly, in Italian.

The man immediately pushed off from the dock, but not before Carlos took a running leap to try to board the departing gondola. Carlos was a large man but agile for his size. For a split second after landing on the railing of the boat, he teetered back and forth precariously, trying to find his balance.

Finally, the forward momentum of the gondola was too much to overcome. With a loud resounding splash, Carlos fell backward into the fetid smelling, polluted water of the canal. Gayle and I roared with laughter that was so infectious even the gondolier joined in.

We finally pulled the soaking wet Carlos into the boat. He repaid us with a stream of Italian curses that continued for the balance of the boat trip and the drive back to the villa as well.

That evening The Don invited us to join him for a pre-dinner cocktail in his office retreat. We found him sitting in front of a roaring log fire, drink in hand reading a report. He stood as we entered and, in a courtly gesture, took Gayle's hand and gently kissed it on the back.

Both Gayle and I had noted that since the first operation on Angelina, The Don was treating us more like honored house guests than reluctant prisoners.

Gayle noticed that Carlos was not standing in his usual spot and signaled the fact to me with her eyes. Before I could say a word, The Don said, "I understand Carlos decided to take a swim in the canal today. He will be back shortly. He has gone to his sister's house for a change of clothes." Although The Don had a serious look on his face, his eyes were smiling.

"We know very little about Carlos," Gayle said. "We spend a lot of time with him, but he doesn't talk much. Is he married, Don Benedetti?"

The Don nodded. "Carlos is, indeed, a very quiet person. He has worked for me for years. He is a loyal and trusted associate. He is not married and only has his sister and her young son as family. He loves his nephew, Gino, with a passion. I truly believe he would die for the boy if necessary."

The evening meal that night was quite enjoyable. The Don was in an expansive mood and entertained us with colorful tales of the history of Venice. Although Angelina normally dined alone, she had joined us for coffee and a chocolate treat. Gayle assumed the girl was embarrassed eating with others because of the veil.

That night there was a major storm system hovering over the Venetian Islands. Sitting at the dinner table, we could hear the threatening sounds of high winds and rain buffeting the walls of the villa.

The Don called for Alba, the housemaid, to ensure that all the windows were shut tightly against the storm. He remarked, "Usually Carlos would be doing the storm checklist, but he still hasn't returned from his sister's house. Perhaps, because of the storm, he will spend the night there."

We thanked The Don for his hospitality before heading off to our suite for the balance of the evening. I was abruptly woken from a deep sleep by a violent hammering on the bedroom door. My watch showed that it was just before 3:00 a.m. Gayle also woke and hurriedly donned a robe. Before either of us could respond to the loud knocking, the door flew open. Carlos stood there, sobbing. He was soaking wet, a look of extreme anguish on his rugged features.

I couldn't understand a word of the rapid flow of Italian, but Gayle did. "Mark, we have a medical emergency. Carlo's nephew is in severe pain. They couldn't get him to the hospital because of the storm. He is out in the car."

Although I didn't know any details of the boy's condition, I blurted out, "Gayle, go and get the operating room prepped. Carlos can help me get the lad into the house."

After reaching the car, it took me only a few moments to diagnose that the boy was suffering from a severe bout of appendicitis. Between us, we managed to get young Gino out of the car and down to the operating theater. By now, the boy was screaming in pain.

I assessed the situation and told Gayle, "I'm worried that he's on the verge of having a burst appendix. I don't want to fiddle with a laparoscopic approach if that's the case, so prep him for an open procedure."

By now, the Don and most of the household staff had joined the sobbing Carlos, all pushing to get closer to the boy. They were attempting to get close to the operating table.

I made a decision. "Don Benedetti, please take these people with you and leave immediately. We don't want to take a chance on contaminating the area. If you take Carlos to your office and give him a cognac, we will report to you as soon as we can."

The Don didn't like taking instructions, but he saw the wisdom of my order and silently complied.

Although I hadn't done an appendectomy for some years, my early training kicked in, and the procedure went smoothly. I smiled at my nurse. "Just in the nick of time, Gayle. Look at how swollen this appendix is. It could have ruptured any minute."

We both knew the serious consequences if the organ had released bacterial infection into the abdominal cavity with a resulting high risk of peritonitis. The quick removal of the boy's appendix intact had avoided this potentially fatal condition. Gayle wheeled Gino into the recovery room while I washed up. When we finished cleaning up, we double-checked on Gino and then walked together to The Don's office.

Gayle and I were quite unprepared for the reception we got. Upon entering the office, I saw Carlos with his head down being consoled by The Don. A half-empty bottle of aged cognac and two glasses sat on the edge of the Don's desk. Carlos immediately jumped to his feet, a mixture of hope and despair on his tearful face.

I decided to address my remarks to Carlos with Gayle translating. "Signore Carlos, the operation was a great success. We safely removed Gino's appendix. The boy should be just fine in a few more days. We recommend that he stay at the villa until he is completely recovered just to be safe."

I couldn't continue because Carlos seized me in a giant bear hug and covered my face with slobbering kisses. When I finally escaped the embrace, Gayle got the benefit of a second repeat performance. The Don was standing behind his desk, handing out cigars to everyone. Only Gayle declined the offer.

From that day on, Carlos was like a lapdog. We could do no wrong in his eyes. He even participated in the daily English lessons Gayle was giving to Alba and Angelina. I was also studying Italian, gradually becoming conversational, if not quite fluent. We found ourselves becoming much more involved with outside medical activities.

When word of Gino's operation spread through the village, ailing residents started dropping in at the villa. The numbers grew to the point that it was necessary to open a full-day clinic every Wednesday. In between clinics, I completed three more procedures on Angelina, finding each one increasingly delicate and time-consuming.