accomplishment in his new capacity as head surgeon of the asylum on Poveglia.
He’d arranged for the custom-made mahogany desk to be shipped to the island earlier in the week with the other furnishings he had hand-picked—walls of bookshelves, a settee, tables, chairs, and even a bed, in the event he was required to remain overnight on the island in case of an emergency. The head surgeon’s office was actually a separate one-story building, erected a small distance from the complex. The building served as both office and personal sanctuary, devoted entirely to him, and a more comfortable place to work he could not imagine. The building’s interior consisted of one enormous room with banks of tall, arched windows running along both lengths, providing plenty of air and sunshine. The back wall had been partitioned to include a bathroom, complete with a large tub, for his use alone.
Today marked his first official day as head surgeon in charge of the facility. Earlier during the week, he had taken a quick tour of the two-story hospital, with its orderly, clean patient wards—twenty beds to a room—and the adjoining laboratory, a large, up-to-date facility with stainless steel operating tables and everything necessary for surgical procedures. Approximately twenty feet to the north of the hospital proper, and resting at a right angle to it, was the quarantine building, where patients who required segregation could be housed, if necessary.
The facility, he’d been pleased to learn, even had its own crematorium, so any who died during their hospitalization could be cremated without the necessity of having to transport corpses by boat to the mainland. Not something the surviving family members had been happy to learn of—traditional burial was always preferred—but the city health officials had deemed it a practical necessity and the regulation had gone into effect right after the hospital’s construction five years ago. The crematorium rested just beyond the quarantine building. Next to that, approximately thirty feet away, was his, the head surgeon’s office.
All in all, he’d been extremely impressed by the institution. The structures on the island, save, perhaps, for the crematorium and the quarantine building, were aesthetically pleasing, with plenty of tall, narrow windows. The entire facility had been constructed short steps away from the landing where the boats arrived and departed. A treed path connected all the buildings, starting at the landing and ending at his office. The hospital’s imposing bell tower, built in the Venetian style and incorporated into the facade, lent a formal air to the place.
He walked over to one of the windows on the north wall of his office, which overlooked a large field, a bit overgrown, and backed by a veritable forest of poplar trees. Yes, he was going to be very happy in his new position.
At eleven o’clock, Rossi exited his office, ready to make his first rounds. Close to a hundred patients occupied the facility and he had spent the earlier part of the morning conducting a quick review of the medical records provided to him by Dr. Fenelli. Rossi had been impressed by the young doctor’s thoroughness in preparing the daily charts. From his perusal of the records, he learned several of the patients were afflicted with severe mental conditions. A quick walk-through to introduce himself to those in his care was his first order of business, and he followed the path to the hospital to locate Dr. Fenelli, anxious to get started.
Rossi entered through the main doors of the hospital and found Dr. Fenelli in the large vestibule, waiting for him. They passed through a portico on their left, into the first of the three wards on the main floor, which were connected to each other by arched openings. As he made his way through ward one, Rossi stopped at each bed and introduced himself to the occupant. Some of the patients appeared responsive, others not so much. Rossi made a note in his
He’d arranged for the custom-made mahogany desk to be shipped to the island earlier in the week with the other furnishings he had hand-picked—walls of bookshelves, a settee, tables, chairs, and even a bed, in the event he was required to remain overnight on the island in case of an emergency. The head surgeon’s office was actually a separate one-story building, erected a small distance from the complex. The building served as both office and personal sanctuary, devoted entirely to him, and a more comfortable place to work he could not imagine. The building’s interior consisted of one enormous room with banks of tall, arched windows running along both lengths, providing plenty of air and sunshine. The back wall had been partitioned to include a bathroom, complete with a large tub, for his use alone.
Today marked his first official day as head surgeon in charge of the facility. Earlier during the week, he had taken a quick tour of the two-story hospital, with its orderly, clean patient wards—twenty beds to a room—and the adjoining laboratory, a large, up-to-date facility with stainless steel operating tables and everything necessary for surgical procedures. Approximately twenty feet to the north of the hospital proper, and resting at a right angle to it, was the quarantine building, where patients who required segregation could be housed, if necessary.
The facility, he’d been pleased to learn, even had its own crematorium, so any who died during their hospitalization could be cremated without the necessity of having to transport corpses by boat to the mainland. Not something the surviving family members had been happy to learn of—traditional burial was always preferred—but the city health officials had deemed it a practical necessity and the regulation had gone into effect right after the hospital’s construction five years ago. The crematorium rested just beyond the quarantine building. Next to that, approximately thirty feet away, was his, the head surgeon’s office.
All in all, he’d been extremely impressed by the institution. The structures on the island, save, perhaps, for the crematorium and the quarantine building, were aesthetically pleasing, with plenty of tall, narrow windows. The entire facility had been constructed short steps away from the landing where the boats arrived and departed. A treed path connected all the buildings, starting at the landing and ending at his office. The hospital’s imposing bell tower, built in the Venetian style and incorporated into the facade, lent a formal air to the place.
He walked over to one of the windows on the north wall of his office, which overlooked a large field, a bit overgrown, and backed by a veritable forest of poplar trees. Yes, he was going to be very happy in his new position.
At eleven o’clock, Rossi exited his office, ready to make his first rounds. Close to a hundred patients occupied the facility and he had spent the earlier part of the morning conducting a quick review of the medical records provided to him by Dr. Fenelli. Rossi had been impressed by the young doctor’s thoroughness in preparing the daily charts. From his perusal of the records, he learned several of the patients were afflicted with severe mental conditions. A quick walk-through to introduce himself to those in his care was his first order of business, and he followed the path to the hospital to locate Dr. Fenelli, anxious to get started.
Rossi entered through the main doors of the hospital and found Dr. Fenelli in the large vestibule, waiting for him. They passed through a portico on their left, into the first of the three wards on the main floor, which were connected to each other by arched openings. As he made his way through ward one, Rossi stopped at each bed and introduced himself to the occupant. Some of the patients appeared responsive, others not so much. Rossi made a note in his
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