Well, it was like this ...

CS drove us, in his usual competent fashion, into the slightly grotty and less than totally prepossessing town of Crotone, where we were greeted by the ONLY sighting ever made (to the best of our knowledge) of two vehicles having run head-on into each other *on a roundabout* !!! Fortunately, it was not one of those accidents that make that night's TV news; in fact, the two drivers were out, shouting and gesticulating wildly in no time !
We were led into a large room with a thing that looked like a dentist's chair in the middle, facing the door; and a solitary man at the back, doing -- something at a basin.
I was made to sit in the chair. My husband took his stand just inside the door. Silence, broken only by faint sounds coming from the man at the basin. Eventually, I just had to know: I turned -- to observe in his hand a LARGE hypodermic, which he was brandishing somewhat wildly. My heart sank and fear gripped my bowels ...
Together we found the hospital (by the simple expedient of looking for the highest building), parked within coo-ee, entered it and crossed seeming acres of foyer floor till we reached a kind of reception person. He was surrounded by hordes, all speaking in raised voices and making extravagant gestures, but our (necessary) use of English got us virtually instant action.
But after a few more minutes had passed, and the man still hadn't approached me with this awful instrument, I looked more closely at his activities ...
At which point it became understood that what this man was doing was TRYING TO FILL A FOUNTAIN-PEN WITH A HYPODERMIC FULL OF INK ...!
I fell back into the chair, my body frozen but my thoughts chaotic...
We were given an escort and found a lift; it had to be *this* lift because *that* lift only came down ... Yes, that's what I said; one of the two lifts was used only for descent ... Anyway, up we all went to some floor or other, which location had been chosen by my having managed to get across the fact that it was my ear that was troubling me.
The pseudo-doctor -- he was, of course, merely an assistant -- then approached and hung onto the arm of my chair one of those mirrors on a band that doctors wear on their heads for peering purposes.