STRESSED OUT CROZIERS

Merope is in hiding out with very kind friends in Panormo, the reasons for this later. Today is our wedding anniversary, but it is probably best not to dwell on it too much. There was a hiccough with all the medical arrangements leading up to the prostate operation because we turned up to the Hospital with our son in tow for what we thought were blood tests on Friday 13^th (!!!) but once we heard the the op had been booked for Monday 16^th , K's blood pressure went up very suddenly and the Doctors doing the tests wouldn't allow him home. They thought it would be better to keep him in to make sure that his blood pressure went down. As we were totally unprepared for this, all his pjs, tootbrush and medication for epilepsy was all still at home, so Leo and I had to keep driving backwards and forwards over the weekend. A round trip of about 60 miles to the Hospital and back around the mountains is not easy. At least I will never worry about finding the hospital again, because I have done the journey so often. However, although K got his epilepsy pills on Friday night on the ward, he did not get any medication until late on Saturday morning when we got there and sadly had his first epileptic seizure in seven years on the hospital ward.

The staff of the University Hospital in Heraklion were amazing. I would mark it out as a flagship hospital – impeccably clean, with well organised and professional, dedicated staff. They have been unfailingly kind and patient and given Kimon the most excellent care, but this took us all by surprise.

However, he came through it OK and the op went according to schedule on Monday 16 Sept. It was such a long wait from 7.30 a.m. until 2.20 p.m., and just as we were beginning to panic, he eventually got back to the ward and all seemed to be going well. K's sister, Anna and I took turns in looking after him. Thus encouraged, Leo set off to the airport from the hospital with a light heart on Tuesday since all the difficulties seemed to have been solved. Leo found us the most splendid room to rent near the hospital so that Anna and I could take it in turns to be with K and grab some sleep when we were off duty.

However, 36 hours later K began to have fits again and had to be taken down to Intensive Care to be completely sedated. This happened on Thursday night and he is still there five days later.

In spite of everyone's efforts and kindness, nobody can describe the feeling of isolation and impotence being in a foreign environment and having to try and work out how the system works. Even Greeks must find it difficult and without Anna and her grasp of the lingo, I would have been completely adrift. It seems that Intensive Care is basically a closed ward for obvious reasons, so the relatives of people there have to gather outside at 3.00 p.m. every afternoon until a Doctor emerges from behind closed doors with a sheet of paper. All the groups take turns to go into the Doctor's office and get the latest report and they may (or may not) be able to visit their loved one with the necessary precautions of aprons, and special hand washing arrangements. They explained to me that the policy of the department is to wake the patient every morning to check for progress but in K's case each morning, the seizures returned, so he was sedated again. They have every modern device in there with wires everywhere and I know he is in the best possible hands, but still ….

Our latest news is that the dosage for sedation has been reduced but K is not yet awake and they are taking it day by day. Since we could not really do any good and were miles from home in a rented room, Anna and I drove back home at the weekend to throw washing in the machine and check on our post, bills and homes. Of course the villagers are very curious and concerned, but for once, I had few words to satisfy their curiosity or give reassurance and needed a bit of space from their enquiries. My Greek is not up to saying that there is no change or, well, any of the above really. I put three short sentences through Google Translate and showed them to Angelliki. Also our immediate neighbours have now got a small dog which is tied up in the back yard howling most of the day and barking at night. Dropping round with some home bakes and realising the problems, our lovely friends, the Brods took pity on me.

If I were on holiday, I would be over the moon to be staying at this sea front home which has a constant view of the ocean in all its moods and within walking distance of the village but still off the beaten track. I have tried very hard to preserve Carolyn's special batch of sausage rolls for K in hospital until he is better, but as the same news carried on I just had to eat them (they fell into my mouth!)

If anyone feels the least bit prayerful, we would be grateful for your positive vibes and best efforts. x

THE HANGING SWORD OF DAMOCLES

As if somebody in the heavens flipped a switch on 1st September, the weather seemed to change overnight and a cool, light breeze arrived. Fabulous! K & I emerged from the relative 'coolth' of the old stone house feeling a bit like Cave Dwellers into the not so glaring September sunshine. It is still 30 C – 86 F, but not quite as desiccating as last week. We are contemplating the annual roof coating patrol before the Autumn rains start and I think it might be down to me this year!

The start to the week was unnerving because we thought we had a hospital appointment for 1.20 pm on Monday to discuss all the scans and tests with the Surgeon. Just before leaving, we telephoned to check where the Doctor could be found in a very large hospital with many buildings. Kindly friends had offered to drive us there and we did not want to waste time or be late for the appointment. Even though the man K had spoken to said that he would see us on 2 September, the request for information was scotched by the news that there was no record of an appointment and not only was that Doctor not in the hospital that day – he was not in Crete.

All that was dependant on getting the date for the operation came crashing down around our ears: an Easyjet flight which should or shouldn't be postponed, a phone call to the person in our UK house with similar health issues and who is not paying his dues, an exam at the end of the Greek School course which I may or may not be present for as well as the sword of Damocles hanging over our heads given that the operation was advised to take place sooner rather than later before the cancer had the chance to spread. Not very reassuring so far.

We called back the nice Urology Specialist who had ordered the tests and the biopsy with the ‘pearl’ of an English speaking Secretary. We asked her if she could find out what had happened and K flirted shamelessly promising her flowers if she could help. On Tuesday, in Rethymnon for a haircut, I dropped by her office with a lovely wrapped gardenia in a tutu of glossy paper and ribbons. She said that she was sorry for the problem and promised to keep trying … and not to worry. She was surprised and said that she did not expect anything extra from us for her trouble, she was just doing her job. In the meantime, K spent another day on the phone and thinks he has an appointment for next Monday. Time will tell.

The trouble is that we are surrounded by Job’s Comforters who are regaling us with their nightmare experiences in Greek hospitals and we have heard from a few people that many impasses are only overcome by the means of ‘brown envelopes containing cash’. We all guessed it happened, but the protocol is baffling for Brits who have paid all their working life for treatment by the NHS.  On the plus side there are many Doctors who would not think of accepting money, but it is so hard for us to know who is who and what is what.

After what seemed like 100 telephone calls made and received to secure an appointment and chat with well-wishers, the Urologist Secretary called us back. She had managed to get us an appointment with the Professor on Wednesday morning TOMORROW! Bravo – only two days wasted instead of seven – we were so grateful for her help.

We seem to have a special Moral Support Club on Facebook started by our daughter in NZ and heard from loads of folk we had all but lost touch with. Kimon said without a blink – thank you for your support, I will wear it always!!  So a huge thank you to all those who transmitted positive thoughts and prayers on our behalf! Keep praying that it is not a wasted journey tomorrow and that I don’t get lost.

Postscript. With the help of a friend's SatNav which had the hospital memorised on it, we got there without any bother but could see the problem as it is a brand new complex built in the middle of nowhere. We spoke with the Professor who had perfect English for some time and the reality of the situation hit K like a train. I had a list of questions to ask but the Prof answered them all as he talked to us.  I took notes because I knew that K would not be able to recall very much afterwards. We had read and knew everything that he said to us but it is a big thing to overcome and K will need a lot of looking after for a month or two. The Prof. said that he would treat him privately. The entire cost for his treatment 2000 euros and we would have to supply 3 units of blood. (To misquote Tony Hancock - two arms and a legful!)  Now feeling a bit like a vampires, we're not sure how to go about finding blood donors - so this will be our next challenge. When I queried K's blood type, the Prof explained that the blood type does not matter because it will be banked, cross matched, exchanged and used by the hospital as and when it is needed.  

After another 20 or so phone calls, K managed to cancel Monday's appointment, but please keep those positive vibes coming our way!   X x x