10.29.07
Posted in culture, family, kids
at 7:41 am
I’ve always struggled with understanding the health system here in Italy. I’ve heard it described as excellent doctors that have to fight crippling bureaucracy. And the few times we’ve had to go to the doctor, that’s what we’ve experienced. Italy has “free-ish” health care for all citizens, but since we have an American health insurance policy, the bureaucracy gets even thicker for us.
But we’re taking the plunge. I went to the health department to find out what I needed to do to buy into the system. For a total of €380 and some change, my entire family can be covered for one year. So for roughly $550, most doctor visits, most tests, and most prescriptions are mostly paid for. There’s a lot of qualifiers in that sentence, I know. We’ll see how it goes. I’m pretty much going to need to forget everything I know about how a doctor/hospital is supposed to run. But considering that my American policy costs about $5,000 per year, with a $1,000 deductible for each of us, I can’t see how we can go wrong. Just a few doctor visits per year would more than pay for it.
And get this - the nice woman at the health department explained that the $550 is per calendar year, so if I paid now I would have to pay again in January. But she talked to her boss, and he agreed to give my wife and kids free care until the end of the year. It’s not much, and apparently it doesn’t matter if something happens to me, but I thought it was nice that they at least did something to help out.
And so what if the hospital in Ancona is a big, scary, gray, communist-era-looking building. What could possibly go wrong? 
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09.25.07
Posted in culture, family, kids
at 3:57 am
Many cities in Italy have started a new event called La Notte Bianca, The White Night. Usually held right before school begins, this event attracts tons of people. Stores stay open late. Museums are open, and often have free admission. The street markets are usually set up in the piazzas. Stages are set up for free concerts all over the place. My kids were amazed by a group of breakdancers that had set up a makeshift area to perform in.
We got to enjoy Ancona’s Notte Bianca a while back, and it was just great. I was amazed to see how many people were crowding the streets so late at night. The activities wrapped up around 5 AM the next day, though we were in bed long before that!
It made me think: how many community events are there in the states where so many people attend until the wee hours of the morning? How many people would get the kids ready to leave the house after dinner just to see what’s going on in the center? I think it’s a part of life that’s really missing from American culture.
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09.23.07
Posted in culture, family
at 3:09 am
Our team calls it “slaying dragons.” It’s our term for beating back those cultural beasts that threaten to overwhelm lesser missionaries and send them running for comfortable America. But not team Ancona. We slay the dragons. My most recent dragon? Residency for Heidi and the kids.
Heidi needs to go to driving school. In order to enroll she must be a resident of Ancona. So we begin the process:
Step 1 - Permesso di Soggiorno. Permit to Stay. Last time we renewed, it took 9 months and 1 police investigation.
Step 2 - Codice Fiscale. Fiscal Code. This is a series of numbers and letters based on your name and city of birth that is something like a Social Security number. The fact that it is based on your name will be important later on.
Step 3 - Contratto di Affitto. Rental contract. Assuming your landlord is legally renting you the apartment, you should already have one.
Step 4 - Passaporto. Passport.
Step 5 - Certificato di Nascita e Certificato di Matrimonio. Birth & Marriage Certificates. Translated into Italian by the Italian consulate in the US.
Take all of this stuff, a bunch of photocopies of everything, and go to the Anagrafe. The residency office. I explain to the nice woman (using the formal Lei to speak to her) that I need residency for my wife and kids.
Problem #1 - Americans have middle names. Most Italians don’t have these, and are generally baffled by people who do. When filling out forms, do I put Brian or Brian David as my first name? Will their computer allow for a first name with a space in it? And, unfortunately Brian Rotert is not the same person as Brian David Rotert to an Italian, unless I have documentation to prove it
Problem #1.5 - At the codice fiscale office, the nice man would only give my kids a number based on my kids’ first name, which is what’s written on their permesso di soggiorno. But their passports list both names (remember how I said the number changes based on how you spell your name?). So these documents don’t all match each other. The codice fiscale office refuses to assign a number based on what the kids’ passport says. And I don’t have 9 months to get the permesso di soggiorno changed.
Problem #2 - The city of a person’s birth is generally unimportant to an American. In Italy, you can’t even get a video rental card without it. My birth certificate unfortunately does not have this information. I can tell them the city I was born in, but I can’t prove it.
Problem #3 - States are a confusing thing here. On this particular trip, the person behind the counter insisted that the city of my birth was actually the county of my birth. In Italian the word stato can mean country. But you translate the word “state” as stato. And there are no states here, only regions. Do you see the room for error?
So all of these problems add up and cause the people behind the counter to have to check big thick policy manuals and go back and ask their bosses if such-and-such is OK. I can hear all the employees behind the thick glass talking in hushed tones about the crazy Americans.
However … dragon slain. In about two months, they will be residents.
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09.16.07
Posted in family, kids
at 2:37 pm
Being the incredible dads that we are, Jason and I decided to go see Shrek Terzo yesterday, since school is about the start. My kids had already seen it in English, but it was brand new for me, Jason, and his kids.
About 15 minutes into the movie, Fiona’s dad, who is a frog, dies. And there’s an (uncomfortably?) long sequence where the family is gathered around this frog, listening to his final words of wisdom, before he finally croaks (get it?). And I’m watching this scene and BOOM! I’m back in the hospital in Kansas City right after dad’s car accident. I actually thought at one point how lucky the characters were, because they got to talk to their dad one last time. And then I think, “Did I just say the cartoon characters are lucky? What’s wrong with me?!” That’s sort of where I am at right now. I don’t get as choked up talking about the accident anymore. The nightmares have thankfully stopped. But the strangest images will bring it all right back again.
Does anyone know which stage of grief causes a person to think of their father when watching an animated frog die?
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09.03.07
Posted in culture, family
at 5:26 pm
So how about that title, huh?
My son and I got to experience the Italian health care system today. A rash has slowly been spreading all over, and we decided the calamine lotion wasn’t cutting it.
Heidi calls the doctor, who has appointments from 9 AM - 11 AM every day. After 11, he will see “urgent” cases on a first come-first served basis. He advised us to come in at 11.
I was really surprised when we arrived. There was a small waiting room with toys and chairs for the parents to sit in. And there was a door that said “Do not enter until the doctor calls you.” People would disappear into the room, and then they would come out. Sometimes kids would cry, sometimes they didn’t. It was all very efficient. There wasn’t any staff. The doctor calls the patients in, examines them, bills them, and sends them on their way. And I was in and out of there in about an hour and a half - and I didn’t have an appointment.
However … since we haven’t yet taken the plunge and bought into the Italian health care system, the bill came to €90 ($123.30), plus €30,45 ($41.72 for medicine). Had I been in the system, it would have been almost free.
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08.17.07
Posted in family
at 5:06 am
It’s hard to believe it, but ten years ago yesterday, Heidi and I were married at Central Christian Church in Rockford, Illinois. Last night, after dropping the kids off at our teammates’ house overnight, we went to a little beach town nearby called Senigallia. We enjoyed a quiet dinner outside a little pizzeria. I asked Heidi if, 10 years ago, she thought that we would be celebrating our tenth anniversary in Italy. We both couldn’t believe where God has taken us.
We don’t have everything figured out about marriage, but ten years of experience have taught us a lot. We’ve had downs and we’ve had ups. But we would definitely do it again.
As Chloe said yesterday, “You guys should stay married until you’re both old and dead.”
I agree.
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07.22.07
Posted in family, friends, home service
at 9:04 pm
We’ve hit that time in our home service when we’re doing lots of “lasts.” Last Mexican restaurant. Last Sunday at church. Last walk around our favorite walking trail.
The hardest “last” of all is the last visit to see family and friends. We went to Heidi’s dad’s house yesterday. Heidi was pretty sure she saw her dad tearing up as we drove away. This morning was our last Sunday at Central Christian Church. They’ve been such a blessing to us, and have made Rockford feel very much like home to us. Tonight we went out with some friends (at a Mexican restaurant - we killed two birds with one stone!). Tomorrow will be our last dinner in the US. Tuesday we fly to the airport.
We are incredibly ready to go home to Ancona. But this week of “lasts” has been difficult on us all. I suppose it’s all a part of being a missionary in a foreign country.
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07.12.07
Posted in family, photography
at 1:35 pm
My father-in-law took this picture on his farm a couple of days ago. Pretty amazing…
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06.30.07
Posted in family, kids
at 8:43 pm
The difference between my dad on Tuesday and my dad on Wednesday was obvious in some ways and invisible in others. After the accident, he was quickly put on a ventilator to keep his lungs inflated (I never really heard the exact number of broken ribs he had). Despite the medication to keep him relaxed, he still wiggled his toes when we tickled his feet. His brain wave monitor would go up when he heard our voices. And it went way up when the nurses gave him a bath (gross, I know). He showed all the normal reflexes. So in some way we knew that despite the sedation and injuries, he was in there somewhere.
But in the early morning on Wednesday, a clot blocked all blood flow to his brain. And all of the feet wiggling and brain waves were gone. The machines may have been breathing for him just like before. His heart was beating (with blood pressure better than mine!). But everything that made him “Dad” was gone.
Isn’t that the definition of a soul?
The kids had lots of questions for us. There were very few visible differences for them to define as their living grandpa and their not-living grandpa. And I struggled to explain to them that even though his heart beat and his lungs moved in and out, Grandpa wasn’t there anymore.
It’s a strange thing how subtle a difference there is between those two phases. James knew what he was saying:
13Now listen, you who say, “Today or tomorrow we will go to this or that city, spend a year there, carry on business and make money.” 14Why, you do not even know what will happen tomorrow. What is your life? You are a mist that appears for a little while and then vanishes. 15Instead, you ought to say, “If it is the Lord’s will, we will live and do this or that.” —James 4:13-15
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06.27.07
Posted in family
at 11:38 am
My dad was in the Navy before I was born, and so was elligible for a military burial. I was suprised to learn that Taps has lyrics, which make the song that much more meaningful.
Day is done, gone the sun
from the lake, from the hill,
from the sky.
All is well, safely rest. God is nigh.
Thanks and praise for our days
‘neath the sun, ‘neath the stars,
‘neath the sky.
As we go, this we know. God is nigh.
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