In November 1947, a young man travelled a hundred and twenty miles east from his home city of Rome to the small village of Abbateggio in the Abruzzi mountains. He came from a humble family and was the second eldest of seven siblings. At twenty-three, he was the youngest medical graduate of his year. He had not chosen to come to this inhospitable place far from his family and sweetheart,

[More:]

but accepted the first job offered to him. It was important for him to become independent as quickly as possible, in order to lighten the burden for his struggling family, and he took on the challenge with courage, determination and enthusiasm. His sister, a nurse, accompanied him: she was to keep house for him.

The land around Abbateggio was rugged, and the villagers' livelihood depended on a few chickens and goats. There was no inside toilet, electricity, heating or running water, and few roads: people generally moved about on mules.

The village had just been given its status as a municipality, and this was the first time it had been assigned its own doctor. The villagers welcomed the young doctor as a saviour, with unconditional trust, respect, and admiration.

He, on the other hand, soon learnt that practising medicine was a far cry from the theory he had conscientiously studied for years at university, and realised this had been a huge leap in the dark. He felt inexperienced and unsure of himself, and more than anything, he wished he were not so alone. He would have loved to have had someone to turn to for advice.

However, it did not take long for him to settle into his role. He was given a house in the centre of the village of 1500 inhabitants, and two of the four bedrooms were set up as a consulting room and a surgery. For emergencies, he had to travel to his patients' homes, which were scattered far and wide. He did not much like riding a mule, so he ran across the rocky hillsides, and soon became known as 'lu dottore piu' corridore del contorno' - the fastest running doctor in the county. His patients were scattered over a large area, and on occasion, when a labour took longer than expected, he would snuggle up in bed with the expectant parents to get some rest after his long jog.

A few months after his arrival, in April 1948, he took some time off, returned to Rome, exchanged his sister for his betrothed, married her and took her to Capri for a brief honeymoon, then brought her back to Abbateggio with him.

She was nineteen, the middle child of a well-to-do family. She had always lived in a wealthy milieu, and had never lacked material comforts. But she was madly in love and ready to follow the young doctor to the ends of the earth. Perhaps the fact that her home environment had been cold, rigid and not particularly loving made it easier for her to leave.

The villagers had missed their doctor, and were delighted to welcome him back with his young bride.

Their names were Ugo and Maria, and they were my parents.

More to follow - as soon as I get round to it - as you will see, she really did follow him to the ends of the earth!