Good morning, Vietnam...

Good morning, Vietnam... Vietnam. This word always kind of depressed me, because I didn’t know the exact location of the country, and because the only things I knew about it concerned the terrible war Americans “wanted” to fight and all the young lives that were lost in the process, on both sides. It was 2010 and I was being treated with acupuncture and physical therapy by the great Alberto. His cabinet was (and I think still is) on the first floor of an old building in a beautiful part of Mantova, near lago Superiore. At the time I still walked (kind of, if you can call “walking” that ambling gait supported by Aiste), and going up those stairs was like conquering mount Everest for Messner; for Alberto it was also a challenge, since he basically had to hoist me up there, but always encouraging me, as if it was me doing the hardest part. Alberto’s father, Otello, whom I’ll never thank enough, lived many years in what was back then called Sai Gon, today’s Ho Chi Minh City. He suggested I undergo treatment with a good friend of his, an Italian physician who had lived there 16 years. It was the first time I heard those magic words: stem cells. Ciro, that was the name of my doctor, worked in a private clinic in the afternoons, while in the mornings he did stem cell research at the university, thanks to public funding. In italy (lower case intended) the state forbids us to undergo stem cell therapy for economic, and therefore, political reasons… I’m ASHAMED to be italian! But let’s go back to my story. I spoke with Ciro (yes, I was able to talk once) who told me a lot of very technical words; all I understood is that no side effets were to be expected. I asked Aiste if she was up to such a long (2 months) and difficult trip, such was the length of the treatment. She answered at once: “I’ve always wanted to visit Vietnam”. We booked an apartment, got visa and reserved flights at once. After a 15-hour flight we were in Vietnam. It was April, which meant rain, lots of rain… but it rained at fixed hours, so you knew what to expect. Just this one time it rained at an “unexpected” time. What to do? We got soaked and we took refuge in our favourite restaurant, where we were shot disdainful looks by the usual French customers. Days followed a routine. The treatment in late morning, which could be stem cell shots, acupuncture, physical therapy or chiropractic therapy. Then lunch (at the time I ate almost everything, although I had to be fed), a walk through a small market where with a few dollars you could buy anything, then a nap (Ciro said that stem cells would have made me tired, but thanks to my awesome body I never felt it), then dinner. Aiste loved Vietnamese food, especially pho, a sort of meat soup which is the national dish, that locals eat on the sidewalk at stalls with a questionable hygiene level; passers-by are used to all those smells, not entirely pleasing for me. Just a small digression about Vietnamese way of life is necessary here. Chidren are marvellous. All of them. I’m in a good position to tell, since being in a wheelchair transformed me in the main attraction for them, because I was as tall as them (even standing adults weren’t much taller than me seated in the wheelchair), and because it was the first time they saw a man being pushed by a woman on a chair with wheels. Adulthood takes them away their beauty, that graces them again in old age. There’s no criminality, I never felt in danger. Only during another trip I felt this pleasing sensation, on the opposite side of the world, in Barbados. I remember the first-page title on the newspaper «Where are we heading to?» after a gas station was robbed for a “huge” 80 dollar loot. Going back to Vienamese, the most fun activity for them is karaoke bars. I think that says it all. They are nice, quiet, helpful people (the fact that, speaking only their tongue, which we didn’t, prevented them from actually being helpful is just a detail). Stem cells deserve a separate paragraph. After the first treatments I started to think that they didn’t work, altough Ciro had told me from the start that the results wouldn’t be immediate. You know, in my condition you want everything to happen ASAP. After a while, thanks to physical therapy with Catherine and her magic touch, I saw that I walked much better. Can you imagine my happiness? No I don’t think so, sorry for gaving you the hope of feeling it. We went back there once more, in December of the same year, and I got even better. Then Ciro told us to wait for a new stem cell, stronger and more effective than the first one, but which had to be tested in labs before being authorised by the Ministry of Health. Unluckily for me this was longer than expected and, now that everything is ready, I’m in no condition to undergo such a long trip... But I got to try stem cells and I’ll keep on fighting, for me and for people luckier than me, I’ll do my bit to obtain the freedom to chose whether and how to be treated for the time, short or long, that is left for me to live.