PROSTRATED POSTERIOR: TENSE

Sunset at Panormo

The title sounds like a new tense to learn for Greek Grammar, but not exactly ...

Our teacher at Greek School said that she would have to let us in to the building and lock the door behind us because all school caretakers in Greece have lost their jobs and she would need to come with us to let us out again and lock up behind us. I am not sure that, if I were a parent of school age children in Greece, I would be happy to let my children come to schools where there was no one available to sort out the plumbing, safety and cleanliness of the establishment, but anyway, it has happened. No state school in the country has a caretaker. Several thousand school teachers were dismissed at the same time. Harsh times, indeed and it makes me doubly grateful that our lessons have not been affected so far.  The intensive way of learning is slowly having an impact on my confidence to try and be a bit more conversational and not be totally tongue-tied. See-ga, see-ga, as they say. Slowly, slowly. 

Kostas, Ian, Kimon and Angelliki

The Urology Specialist had given us an A4 sheet of instructions in Greek to explain the procedure for K's prostate biopsy, which he had tried to explain, but as his Assistant was not there on the day, I handed the sheet to my Greek teacher after the class, just to be sure that we had not missed anything. She went through it – very kindly – and put us in the picture about not taking any medication which would thin the blood and what to expect afterwards. Unfortunately, the procedure was set for a Thursday which is main market day in the centre of Rethymnon, so we worked out that the best thing to do would be to get there by bus and Anna, Kimon's sister, offered to come and pick up us from the surgery when it had finished.

The swallows roost every night on the wires outside the Kafenion

On Tuesday, we had a telephone call from the Urology Doctor's assistant to go through the preparations for the biopsy, which was efficient (and un-heard of to us Brits). She spoke perfect English and this was reassuring. We had to get the prescription for a large dose of antibiotic which needed to be started that day and she wanted to be sure that we understood all the instructions. In the meantime, I had been boil washing and bleaching sheets and towels and stocking up on antiseptic wipes and bed pads along with supplies of drinking water and soft drinks, as we would be stuck in the house for a few days afterwards. We tried to pick up the antibiotic in Panormo but the Pharmacy there did not have it and we decided that the one opposite the Health Centre in Perama was probably the best place to start. After a nice conversation with the lady at the counter, we stopped for a cold drink at a shady cafe and met up with a French couple who had recently bought a house in Roumeli - 5 minutes away from our village by a nice new road. We had a hilarious half hour trying to talk Greek, French and English simultaneously and I told them about our Greek lessons.

Topped and tailed!

I threw away K's old sandals when he tripped over the
gatestep and cracked his head on the flower pot

When the dreaded day for the biopsy came, I packed a bag with a few medical necessities and we caught the bus into Rethymnon. It was heaving with tourists and we were too early. K found a shady seat under the tall trees in the municipal gardens – not allowed to eat or drink anything – so I just had a bottle of water after taking a quick spin round the fresh veggie stalls, the cages with rabbits and chickens (oooohh!) and cheap clothes and shoes but not able to buy anything because all our money had been put aside for the Urologist. I had 20 minutes until we were due at the Surgery. All medical offices in Crete are spotlessly clean and seem to be equipped with the latest high tech gadgetry in the surgeries. Most Doctors seem to have their own ultrasound equipment, for instance. It is hard to equate the sophistication of the town livers with the simplicity of the villagers, but we are grateful for it. I settled down in one of the lovely comfortable leather sofas and, half watching the Greek TV which was on in the corner, got out my Kindle for a bit of a read. I kept checking the time; Anna phoned and asked what was happening as she had been in the car park waiting for our call for 45 minutes and was reading her Kindle, but still no sign of K. After an hour, the Specialist emerged and invited me into the inner office. He showed me two pots of fluid with stuff in them. I was not sure that I really wanted to see them or what the blobs and specks signified exactly, but anyway, it was over and K was in the surgery still hooked up to heart monitors and cannulas looking a bit groggy.

Thankfully K was first, but there were three more people after him for treatment and I am glad that we did not have to see anyone else emerge after an hour and recover in the (by now rather full) waiting room. It would have put anyone off! However, after they had checked him out for a spell and the dizziness had passed, we were allowed to leave. We only had to wait in the shade for a minute or two before K's sister arrived in her car and we were able to cover her seats with the necessary padding and get home for a cool, relaxing (non- alcoholic) thirst quencher.

A light diet and not allowed to do anything for 3 days (him, not me!)

Apologies from the Croziers that the photo content seems at variance with the subject matter, but for this you will be relieved.  Anyway, so far, so good. Temperature (taken every 4-5 hours) is normal. Patient is sleeping lots and all the doctor's directions and instructions on the A4 sheet have been very welcome.   The Specialist will call us with the results in seven days.