ON THE HOME STRAIGHT ...

Greek dancing hasn't changed much since Minoan times!

It has been Panegyri this weekend and all the Greeks are holidaying big time. I tried to align it with one of our UK Church Festivals like Pentecost or All Saints, but it is not comparable. The festival is to celebrate the Dormition of the Virgin Mary and rates second in importance to Easter here. The internet stopped working too – a sure sign that lots of people are on line greeting one another by Skype. The weather has been really hot and steamy, sleeping is not easy and mosquitoes are being pursued with the full force of my armoury of plug ins, spray cans and swatters. We are also trying a new product from the UK called “Incognito” which is working very effectively and is a totally natural and organic product. We are impressed so far (and I am not on commission).

While all the rest of the village was celebrating with family, I attacked housework with gusto and got all the road, terrace and floor sweeping done, followed by mops to deal with a few weeks gathering of sand and dust around the house. It looks much better but again, all our terrace flowers have expired without constant attention and we are wondering whether we have got the right sort of compost or earth to keep our garden happy. Fortunately the geraniums seem to be indestructible but the vine was blighted from early on, either by hot winds or rain at the wrong time for the fruit to develop properly; such is life.

The moon rising over the mountains

On Saturday morning, Panormo was heaving with tourists and locals. As all the streets and alley ways are narrow and rustic, the big lorries delivering water and fresh foods after the holiday Friday when everyone comes home to spend time with their families had formed a giant Chinese puzzle of drivers forwarding and reversing into minute gaps available while others shouted “Ella, Ella” and folded and unfolded wing mirrors as required. I nipped out early in the morning for some fresh supplies and got completely boxed in by cars and lorries, so zig-zagged my way to the quayside car park and walked back up to the village, stopping at the little church on the way to light a candle. My brief glimpse of the sea as it glinted in the morning sun was tempting, but I did not have long to stop and I am hoping to catch up with diet and exercise after all the hospital incarceration is behind us. I keep my trainers with me to walk wherever I can around the hospital grounds, but the circuit of the campus or a trip down to the nearest pharmacy is enough on hot, busy roads with ambulances, buses and trucks thundering back and forwards all the time.

Pacific Dreams on the Laptop at the Hostel

As far as the poor patient is concerned, well, we were warned. We have reached the trickiest part of the radiotherapy treatment and poor old K is spending lots of the time rushing to the loo since nothing he eats or drinks – even with the beastly low residue diet seems to make much difference. A prescription of Imodium did little to help and it is now getting hard to judge the right time to make the hour's journey in the car from the hospital to home because there is no place to stop on the way. 6 more sessions and counting ….. thank the Lord for Tena pants and all the home nursing tips I learned last year!

All this means that we have been closeted away a lot and doubly glad to have our TV set with us, because even if the internet is down, we are running through all our DVDs and watching all the Directors' Cut versions and deleted scenes, so that we don't get too weary of the same old films all the time. Effectively, we have missed out on two summers running and I am longing to return to some sort of normality and a chance to celebrate. The five days at the hospital hostel drag slowly and the two days at home intensively washing, ironing, cooking and cleaning form an oddly disorientating routine. I had been up since 5.00 a.m. this Sunday morning making bread, a cottage pie, some pork patties (akin to sausage rolls, but without the resource of sausage meat and without onions which aren't allowed), doing a mammoth pile of washing and ironing before the temperatures became too hot at 40C. Sleep had been impossible so I thought I would start on all the chores early. Having finished the cooking and looking forward to my morning coffee, I started to attack the resulting mound of crocks in the sink.  Meanwhile, the village neighbours were calling to me through the window ... “Where are you today? There are still leaves that need sweeping up on your doorstep!” Ggggrrrr! Kimon explained that I was cooking for the next seven days but I had to show my face with a dustpan and brush, if only for a minute. Being a Greek housewife isn't for sissies.

MOVERS AND SHAKERS

Not from Art School - this is displayed at the Archaeological Museum

The Art School has opened again. Tim and Janice, our teachers have returned to Crete after an exciting year or two off teaching in Peru.

So it was wonderful to take the day off from radiotherapy minding to get home for 36 hours midweek and pootle up to Kastellos to catch up with the Art Class crowd. Some had been in the process of having homes built, others had been having a few health problems too, but it was GREAT to see everyone again while we tackled “dry art contour drawing” with gusto and shared news along the way. The morning ended with large drawings in charcoal and chalk and very dirty hands! Since I have been living, breathing and sleeping homecare, nursing, hospitals, doctors and medical miscellanea for such an age, I was trying to keep a lot of updates low key and avoid boring everybody and straying into the realms to “too much information”. No matter how hard I tried to steer away from hospital traumas, it was nearly impossible, but I did my valiant best.

The weekend was raging hot, but it was lovely to catch up with friends on Saturday for a belated birthday and “hooray-I'm-back-home-in-Crete” meal with our pals Stuart and Kathy.  We also spent an energetic hour trying to release a sparrow that had fallen down the chimney and was flapping about inside the log burner every time I walked past.  This is the moment when you realise that having mosquito netting over all the windows and doors is a bit of a disadvantage.  Our idea was to catch the sparrow in K's fishing net and deposit him outside.  In the event, the bird flew straight through the holes in the net and round the house for a few minutes while we grappled with mosquito screens but quite quickly exited through the "scream door" in the front porch, none the worse for his ordeal.  

We telephoned the UK estate agents about the sale of the house in the UK. It seems that they have loads of viewings but not much real interest. I suppose I will need to get there and make some decisions about making the house more attractive. I thought the last house sale was the one to end all house sales, but it seems not. As I want to return to the UK as soon as the current treatment is done, it is probably as well that things are not proceeding too rapidly and there is somewhere to stay. We are not sure whether K will make the trip or not, but I hope so.

Gregory's coffee shop is a haven of near normality ...

We found a small harbour and cafeneon, not far from Heraklion.  An ideal place for K to
dream about having a fishing boat and to spend a morning.

I got back to Heraklion on Wednesday to the hospital with freshly made bread and a few supplies. Thursday, we queued for aeons to get the definitive low-down on what is happening next as regards radiotherapy. What with the language difficulty and everyone in a rush, K was not quite clear what was happening and we have been given so many versions, we wanted to dig our heels in and get the facts straight. Firstly we were told by the Urology Department that 4 weeks radiotherapy would proceed with hormone treatment, then when we arrived at the radiotherapy department we were told that there would be no hormone treatment but there would be 7 weeks of radiotherapy plus a little chemo. Then the idea of chemo was dropped. Then there was some mention of this session of radiotherapy stopping at the end of the week but differently focused treatment would start at some later date and so on. Confused by all this? Yes, we were too. The Doctor and Radiographer were very defensive about our questions, so we explained that we did need to know exactly what was happening, about the hostel booking and that no one had explained the process to us clearly at the outset. We thought it best not to mention that we never did receive a diet plan either and have been relying on one published by Nottingham Hospital for patients having radiotherapy to the pelvic area. Thank God for the internet and the advice of UK friends; we would have been completely in the dark otherwise.  

Anyway, all the Greek patients wait around for entire days to get seen while English patients are regarded as being a bit of a pain. How dare we have the presumption to waste important people's time by expecting answers to questions? It does not help to see British TV adverts for, say, Macmillan Nurses or Cancer Care where medical professionals seem to have unlimited time for social niceties, one-to-one explanations, help and support “at a time like this” … the milk of human kindness uppermost ... and we ponder whether there is any truth to this representation of care back home or whether we are imagining la-la land. One poor lady we know from the hostel had received chemo treatment in the morning and had been waiting since 7.00 a.m. to see the Doctor. It was now 5.00 p.m. The thoughtfully provided water cooler had run out of cups days ago, so she had had nothing to eat or drink all day waiting for the Doctor to see her. She did not dare leave the queue to miss her turn although she had tried to scoop up water from the wash basin tap in the loo. (I wouldn't fancy it, even when well and healthy). I left K in the queue and toddled off the the shop to get bottles of water all round and bought a few packs of cups on my next trip to the supermarket. This is so normal in a place which is understaffed at the best of times whilst the holiday season can wipe out any of the rudimentary systems in place. From my vantage point, it is very hard to find out what the systems are unless there are kindly other patients to tell you because nobody else has the time. The absence of ONE member of staff is really telling and the poor lone doctor left working this week must be at breaking point.  We have to keep reminding ourselves that the economic crisis in Greece is not his fault and he is at the sharp end of it, like everyone else here.

How all these artifacts in the Museum survived centuries of earth movements is a bit of a mystery!  Hot bath anyone?

Hey ho! All these grumbles were interrupted by my bed shaking like a jelly on Friday morning and after New Zealand and another last year, I knew instantly what it was …. EARTH TREMOR! 34 km deep and 4.7 magnitude. Kimon did not feel it in the basement but the hospital is the only place I have felt them in Crete.

We will be so glad when this is over and we can have a rest from white coats for a good, long time. 12 sessions to go and we are praying that the machinery holds together, since every day of delay costs extra.  

Kalo tiki!

COUNTING STITCHES

 The countdown to the end of K's hospital treatment is continuing and we are half-way through the daily radiotherapy now. We are in a weekly groove - driving to Heraklion every Monday and returning on Friday to have a quick laundry turnaround, cook a few casseroles and dishes which can be easily digested and microwaved and back on the road come Monday morning with a Check List which has to be gone through each time. So far we have not forgotten the kettle, the power leads, or clean clothes and bedding, but I have a complete muddle head over what we have in the fridge at either end and whether my walking shoes are at home or away. Kimon stumps off to the department on his crutches each day and queues for ages until it is his turn.  He seems to enjoy listening to the conversation in the queue with other patients.  The swimming bag is kept in the boot of the car – just in case we get the opportunity to go and he is feeling well enough to go out. The end is beginning to be in sight.

Last week was a short week. The radiotherapy machine needed to be serviced, so we had a four day break from hospital routine and the bung-you-up diet, which I have now completely rejected and which, unfortunately means that I have to cope with two lots of cooking rather than one. White bread, white pasta, no veg and lots of meat and fish is not any sort of diet that I can live with. K only can for the duration and then we will be back to our sought-after Cretan diet with lots of salads and olive oil and as much wholemeal bread as he wants and much less red meat than we have been recommended by the doctors for the duration.

All our items arrived via Nomad on Tuesday.  Great, we now have TV and it works!

There is a kitchen at the hostel, but the practicalities of cooking nourishing meals on one stove with the six or so other ladies who are taking care of their important others is a bit of a challenge. It is interesting to see what the ladies make of the dietary restrictions and I peek under saucepan lids to see liver cooking in some sort of gravy; masses of potatoes bubbling away, fish soup, and stew. From the oven emerge trays of home made bread, big pork chops and Greek sausages (which are a bit too spicy for me). All in all, it is a bit easier to make some enriched stocks at home and reassemble them later a bit of a distance from the jostling in the kitchen. Greek wives always look disapproving of anything I make, but Kimon seems OK so far and his weight is remaining steady. His blood tests are holding out OK, although we have to look out for white blood cells and platelets to see that they are not getting too low.

On Wednesday evening, a nice Greek lady (with very good English) turned up with a box of art materials and taught people staying in the hostel various handicrafts which included tissue paper flowers, painted stones, and we all had fun daubing and borrowing each others brushes and paints. Another wife of a patient was really taken with the bolero I was knitting for my little grand-daughter, so the next day I went in search of a photocopier to let her have the pattern. Kimon tried to follow me in the hospital admin building lift and it got stuck between floors. In a small enclosed area, he got hotter and hotter. Fortunately his mobile phone worked, so having alerted me, I was able to summon help and he was only incarcerated for half an hour or so until they got the winch working on the first floor. Fortunately he didn't miss his treatment!

The hostel receptionist has asked me to knit a jumper for her newborn grandson. A first size jumper in the time of 15 more treatments … should be possible!

In Skepasti, it is full-on beef tomato and melon season, and next to the French people's house is a field simply full of wonderful ripe tomatoes, most of which have been picked and crated. They brought me two bags of the discarded tomatoes which I am struggling with. I am still deliberating about acquiring a freezer. Fortunately, I had instructions from Valerie in England on how to bottle tomatoes and in the middle of a very hot day and all the laundry turnaround, I was processing large piles of lovely fruit and simmering bottled tomatoes on the stove, muttering ungratefully and somewhat reluctantly because passata, tinned tomatoes and puree are so very inexpensive to buy in the shops. Anyway, we have five jars of pasta sauce which I hope will last for a few weeks yet. I thought that the oversize Ali Baba terracotta pots used for storage in the kitchen would be the best place to put the jars, being reasonably cool and dark inside. We will see whether this works. I will also plead with the French not to bring me any more at the moment. When we are through with all this, it will be easier.

Time to catch up ... at Geronimos in Panormo

The CIC are organising a meal out in Panormo tonight (Sunday) which is nice for us because we cannot get to see our friends easily until radiotherapy is over. So I am casting off for now and will catch up again soon. As news goes, things are a bit uneventful, but so far, so good.

EAR PLUGS TIL DAWN

The new Archeological Museum has opened and the displays are stunning

We were thankful to get home to our house, which was cool downstairs at least and reflect on the week in Heraklion while K had his radiotherapy each day. Monday had been nice, though. We drove back to the hospital in time for his treatment at about 3.00 p.m. and were told that there would be a little party with music that evening. We assembled in the large downstairs lounge area where trays of lovely fruit and little pies had been arranged and chairs set out. A talented lady singer/guitar player came and made music which all the people joined in and clapped along with. Most of the songs were well known Greek folk favourites but the singer even played “Let it be” so that I was included. We had an unexpectedly enjoyable time and it did help break the ice amongst all the separate people who are there for one reason or another.

We spent another day last week looking for an alternative beach … or a small village with a friendly cafeneon/taverna to have a coffee or a meal out for a change. Our little spot at Paleocastro seems the best, though for parking and convenience.

K and I were tickled by the top sign which says Idiotiko Parking.  It couldn't be a better description of the mayhem outside the hospital.  People will park ANYWHERE rather than walk for 2 minutes from the Car Park

While K was queueing up for bar codes in the Outpatients in order to get his blood tested, I took the bus into Heraklion to check out the new Archaelogical Museum which opened recently.  The displays are amazing ... Phaestos Disk, King Minos ring in bright shining gold, statuary from the Roman and Hellenic period, stunning ceramics which were beautifully set out.  

We heave a sigh of relief to get home on Fridays and forget each time that July and August constitutes peak summer wedding season and on Saturday nights the village is heaving with strange cars all lost and asking for directions to the Kentron (big event venue) which is built in stone high up on the hills at the edge of the village. As soon as we see all the lights on up there, I look for my earplugs because it is the sign that Greek music will tune and start up at midnight and continue all night until 6.00 a.m. If you were in the mood, the traditional lyra and guitar music are occasionally quite good, but all night and amplified for all the local villages in the area, it is too much to bear. By early morning, it sounds like all the drunken Uncles of the bride have got hold of the microphone and are giving it some welly. On a hot sleepless night, it is just what you don't really appreciate and neither did next door's dog, especially after some happy partygoer decided to do a five gun salute at 3.30 a.m. On nights like these, you just have to give up the idea of sleeping and get up for a cup of tea and prowl around the house, adjusting and readjusting your earplugs and wishing they worked better! The truth is that it is difficult to sleep well wherever you are on hot summer nights and the moon was bright and clear outside for the happy-go-lucky wedding guests – all who seemed in fulsome voice at 5 o’clock and unwilling to give up and go home. Sunday mornings are always very quiet in the village as most people need to catch up on their sleep.

I promised a photo of the “disabled friendly” facilities at the hospital and we thought that this one deserved a prize!  Nobody can deny that a wheelchair ramp has been provided....so that box can be ticked!

The ramp that goes nowhere ...

... here is the door!  

TWO LEFT FEET

Sunday lunchtime at Bali - High Season!

4/36 Treatments and Counting. Friday Night. Back from the hospital after the last radiotherapy session this week. Kimon opted for a late afternoon slot, which works out well for us as we have the whole morning to travel out and about while the hospital car parks are at their most ludicrous and return home after lunch - for a queue in the waiting room, treatment and then a nice afternoon nap. If we feel energetic enough, we can go for a slow walk with crutches in the hospital grounds to our friends at Gregorys Coffee Bar or collapse for the evening.

A heaps better experience than last time around.

This may be important!

First of all, we were amused that patients could only find out what they needed to know from other patients. The two doctors on duty were working completely flat out and did not seem to have people on hand to carry out the admin. After retrieving Kimon's very large hospital file from last summer (which was the biggest and fattest the Doctor had ever seen since K had been in four different departments last year) the Doctor left it on his desk on Tuesday and K reported that it was still on the desk where he left it today. The chances of retrieving it a second time seem a bit slim to me. We were told about a special diet sheet which we asked about several times and ended up looking up things on line. It seems counter-intuitive requiring K to eat white bread, white rice, no vegetables and lots of MEAT and Fish. We heard from another patient that avocado, bananas and peaches are also OK. If Blog-followers have any friends in the know, perhaps they can double check this for us. We think it is to stave off Montezuma's revenge, which for K would be a bit of a disaster.

It might say, please close the fridge door and return the teaspoons, we are not sure

K was mightily amused by the banter which was going on in the waiting room while all the blokes in the queue were arguing politics vehemently. Meanwhile patients in beds are being wheeled in and out, wheelchairs dance round one another in the narrow corridor and people rush in and out of offices at great speed. In the middle of all this frenetic activity, the argument in the waiting room carried on at full force and one chap was called for his treatment and turned as he went through the door, pointing his finger and saying “Don't go away, I'm coming back to finish my point!”.

We were given prescriptions to take down the road to the Pharmacy and chatted in the busy shop while quite a number of customers came and went. We took out the instructions written in Greek to ask her and I translated the instruction and put it by the side of the Doctors scrawl. All these matters are greatly confused by the fact that Greeks shorthand-write “pm” for morning which to us means “am” - so my annotations confused her completely! It must have caused masses of missed appointments between Greeks and English speakers over the years. The Chemist assuming that we were complete idiots took out a large black marker and wrote a number against each pill and instruction with the matching big black number on each box. Brilliant, but almost as a whisp of an afterthought she added that, of course, number 2 was a suppository. K and I fell about laughing and thanked her for telling us; it was good to know. K joked that it would have been so hard to take with a cup of coffee. I can only conclude that a good number of prescriptions must be dealt with this way in Greece because she could not understand our hilarity. Not a glimmer of amusement did she share while we were clutching each other and falling about after a week of deciphering where we were supposed to be and what we were supposed to be doing without any clear directions at all. Huh, mad English – how childish about dealing with medicines! Anyway, now we know … if the capsule looks extra large, stop and double check the Greek instructions.

Our lovely little beach - space for cars - then ...

Yesterday, we found a brilliant little beach about 12-15 mins drive from the hospital. Not 5 star by tourist standards, but wonderful for us. Accessible by car and easy to park; a nice shady coffee bar; straight out on to a small beach for a decent swim with a shower and changing cabin and then easy to get back to the hospital again. Most beaches leave K standing at the top of hideously uneven steps or track, leaning on his crutches looking down wistfully and thinking, “maybe not” – so this was a God-send. Few places are disabled friendly in Crete from any point of view. We found one ramp at the hospital which leads to a glass wall and the entrance door well

away to one side of it! It went nowhere … we had a giggle but next week I will take a photo.

... right near a shady place to have morning coffee

Sadly, we stopped at Katerina's Ouzerie today for a quick lunch and had been told that Katerina's mother was in the hospital in a coma. We sent our love and best wishes to them. We had just ordered lunch when the phone rang with the message that her mother had just died and we realised that we would have to leave everything we had ordered behind and make a fast exit so that they could make arrangements. We know that the funeral service takes place within 48 hours so poor bereaved families need a standing start, I would think. Katerina had been such a kind friend to us last September, so we wanted to find a way to show our sympathy. We will have to ask the right thing to do as customs vary so radically from the UK to Crete and we would hate to get that wrong too.

MANTINADES

We were glad to get to the end of a very stressful week with two trips to the Hospital in Heraklion to catch up with the Professor who had not been able to keep our appointment due to a family bereavement the week before.

Tuesday's day at the hospital was hard going because K was walking around with crutches which work for most day to day movement, but we had underestimated the distances and wrong directions we were sent on whilst looking for the Radiotherapy Doctor's hidden lair. Having been sent downstairs, then upstairs, then downstairs again along miles of corridors, we eventually found him amongst a long queue of patients and he discussed the start of radio

therapy treatment – seven weeks from 8 July every week day with a light course of chemotherapy as well. All this was completely at odds with what the Professor had told us earlier.

He gave us a piece of paper to fix up an appointment with Cardiology for an ECG to make sure K's heart was up to it. So we stumped off in search of Cardiology. The short answer is that we think that Cardiology were on strike, but we only found that out after queuing with a numbered ticket for ages and then reaching the lady at the window and being told that we could not make an appointment today. K was exhausted, so we decamped to the car and came home in a bit of a temper. The next day we were back again for a CT scan, but I was prepared for the long corridors and mileage to be covered by taking the wheelchair. This was fine and dandy until the Doctor led all his patients from the hidden lair to the CT Scanner – setting off at a gallop with a string of patients behind him for all the world like a family of ducks. We rushed to keep up and all was well until he disappeared around a corner and leapt up a flight of stairs with a line of people behind him leaving us and the wheelchair staring in dismay.  Not even the hospital is "disabled friendly" in Greece.  Two kind souls, who knew the ropes showed us how to get to the CT place by finding the lifts to the right floor and accompanying us. I need to remember that the comfort and strength of being in hospital is from the patients and their families rather than the paid staff! Anyway we got there and sat in another queue until the Secretary came back from her lunch and could deal with the form filling in duplicate.

On Thursday, we went to a Cardiologist in Rethymnon to get the ECG done and the good news is that K has the heart of an ox! He seemed quite boosted by the news! By Friday, we were pooped and needed to have a quiet day, but somehow we seemed to have one visitor after another and I set off on my own trying to get a peaceful hair cut, without success, but noticed that a new Spa had opened in Panormo. I booked for a back and shoulder massage, to see if it would help with relaxation and a good sleep. The masseur spoke fantastic English, and on greeting me and shaking hands said that he could see that I had problems with my wrist joints (wow … true, I thought it was arthritis) so he spent an extra while paying attention to my arms and hands and it really helped. I wonder if he would be able to help with K's leg at all?  He has started to get pins and needles and a few shooting pains which may or may not be a good sign.

We spent a lot of Saturday at our friends house in Exantas (on the side of a mountain with marvellous views but a heart-in-the-mouth drive up the track to reach it). England were playing New Zealand in the Rugby Test and the Kiwis won! Our friends were disappointed, but we were philosophical about it. Later in the day, they had a barbecue for loads of people on a staggeringly beautiful mid summer evening, a table laid for 30-40 people, live music with lyra, guitar, wonderful singing and a bit of rock and roll from the Brit contingent who emerged from practising their greek conversation with the local villagers and let their hair down at the end. It was the first time my guitar had emerged from its case for a year or so and it was terribly out of tune, but nice to sing a few songs with other folk. The final task was to get down the mountain again in the dark and along all the back tracks at 1.00 am. This had been our latest night for at least a year and we had really enjoyed it.

LIVING ON A KNIFE EDGE

When we talk to our friends here, one of the things that many ex pat families share is the almost constant sense of anxiety about other family members far away, especially elderly parents. Most of our friends have had to organise flights home for emergencies and in all the contingency plans we made when leaving for foreign climes, it never occurred to us that we would have to deal with emergencies at home and here in Crete at the same time.

Many of our friends here share problems with any property they may still have in the UK; worry if a letting agency is charging a lot for doing very little, damage to their home, a caretaker or tenant who is not covering their expenses, not co-operating or, in our case, refusing to accept the four months notice we gave to terminate the rental agreement in September last year so that we could move home and seek treatment for cancer in the UK.

As we started out, people had told us that the treatment in Crete was very good indeed … and this is true. Certainly the speed and efficiency of the diagnostics were amazingly efficient. All we had to do was to make our way to the correct clinic or laboratory in various parts of Rethymnon and Heraklion, pay our fee and gather the results in one folder to take to a Specialist for further consultation and treatment. All achieved in 20 days.

The hospital situation was a bit different, but we have covered all that ground before and, in spite of my desire to get back to the UK after our many gruelling weeks at the hospital, and seek some English speaking medical and nursing advice, we were stopped in our tracks by not having a home to return to and needing specialist disabled friendly arrangements in place before we threw in the towel and retired “injured” to the UK.

So it was a cause for rejoicing a week or two back, our son got back from Crete to find the key to the UK house in a brown envelope at his home address in England. It had taken eight months without income and bearing the costs of two houses, court proceedings and a lot of work done by kindly young people on our behalf in the UK and other family members (who had all sorts of more important things to worry about). We realise that we had travelled too far down the treatment path to stop now, because we hear that UK doctors are reluctant to receive back patients to the UK and often ask them to wait six months before they will consider treating them. It has been a walk along a knife edge for months now dividing pockets of stress into separate compartments and trying to deal with one thing at a time. Since we are nearly at the point of getting radiotherapy for K, we decided to wait until after the next hospital visit here in Crete to see how the land lies. We hope and pray that things go much better for us this time around. Another cause for celebration is that the owners of the Zimmer frame phoned to ask if K still used it. He had actually progressed to crutches a few days before so it was with a certain amount of thanksgiving that we could return it and know that another person would feel as supported as we had.

Meanwhile, Crete is still having odd weather. Rain and cloud in late May and early June is almost unheard of and grey, cloudy skies – full of desert sand to coat every surface of the house and garden – all make for lots of hard work and cleaning. Our terrace is like a sandy beach after the last lot of winds and rain. The car looks as if it has been on African car rally even after a dousing with the pressure hose. I am glad that nobody can see me watching TV in a warm woolly, socks and gloves this evening. We have been so cheered up by seeing videos and photos of the grandchildren far away “down under” and wondering when we will get the chance to catch up with them again.

As K's birthday approached after such a dodgy year, we wanted to celebrate in a way that marked the occasion (SURVIVAL) without wearing the pair of us out completely. Almost by accident, we fell in with the idea of a pancake brunch on Saturday morning to which five of us tucked into freshly made pancakes from friend Ian's first class frying pan, just squeezed orange juice, fresh fruit salad, delectable maple syrup, bacon, sausages, birthday cakes and, having enjoyed all the food and opened goodies, drove down to Panormo to have frappé coffees and milk shakes at our favourite Vinzi's Cafe up on the ramparts. Two more friends turned up after their lunch – so by a chapter of good effort, lots of humour and pure accident, it made a very nice day.

Archive photo of Panormo last year!

We are now resting a bit and girding our loins for the next stage which will mean driving to and from Heraklion each day for radiotherapy treatment for four weeks, if they give the go ahead. This is a round trip of about 40-50 miles around the mountains. We may have ex pat folk around to help us, so we are trying to keep upbeat and hopeful.

We have been so busy, we cannot believe that it is June already (definitely not flaming and somewhat miserable by Cretan standards) but anyway KALOMINA!