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
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