It's Over

Surgery all done and dusted.

The Greek health system works well.  I had excellent treatment in our  rural small- city hospital. My stay and surgery was free. I had a sympathetic doctor, nurses who were always cheery and on the ball.

We gave 'thank you' money to the doctor and anaesthetist but neither had their hands out.

Some demand and some don't. 

A year ago I had my cataract operation at this hospital.  The eye doctor wouldn't even set a date for my cataracts until he saw that fat little white envelope with a 'deposit'.  His manner changed in an instant and my 2 year wait was suddenly over.

It's a corrupt system, illegal, not helped by us. But it's hard to know what to do.  

We had a wee upset when getting the once-over from the cardiologist.  He told me I was a high risk patient, something to do with 2 valves. He insisted I must have had trouble walking and wouldn't have been able to climb stairs without being very short of breath and dizzy. Whereas  I've  never felt fitter. My own cardiologist gave me a scan 3 months ago and pronounced me in great condition, and stands by that now . 

The problem would have been with the anaesthesia. The anaesthetist asked me a whole load of questions, said the hospital doc was known to over exaggerate but decided on an epidural drip. 

That's a weird feeling, not being aware of my body below the waist. Listening to doctors and nurses chatting as they take my insides out, snip off bits and pieces and replace it all, correctly.

 The day before my surgery K was sent off to another rural hospital to pick up 2 litres of blood. My daughters are blood donors and the procedure, on paper, is handled by the local council.  It wasn't needed but they like to have it on standby.  That's the 2nd time he has transported blood in our car.  It's usually done by ambulance but they were all tied up.

The gyno ward is in the old part of the building and there were only 2 of us there. An Albanian girl who had a cesarian in one room and me in another. We both departed  the same day, leaving an empty ward.

The rooms on this ward are old.  No TV because there are no connections.  It would have helped to pass the days after surgery, especially for K who sat by my bedside all day. I had a book  and both had our phones, and a plug to recharge. The central heating was a bit noisy but kept me warm as toast day and night.

The bathroom was clean but ancient.  Toilet bowl without a lid, small basin and a shower head attached to the wall without either a shower tray or a curtain.  It would have been a very wet room if I had wanted to use it. 

I had a room mate for a few hours on the first day. May the woman live long and healthily, but nowhere near me, please.  Ye gods and little fishes. She spoke in a ringing voice to everyone all day long. She phoned all her friends and told them all in detail, and very loudly, why she was there, a minor procedure. She introduced herself, and me, to everyone from the cleaner to the trolley bearer. She wouldn't shut up. 

The only photo I took

Old hands

Like most rural hospitals many of the patients are Roma (gypsies).  They never come alone.  The whole family tags along, from babe in arms to ancient matriarch.  They're noisy and the kids run along the corridors, opening and closing doors.  At nights when the hospital was on standby duty I could hear them down in the yard yelling at each other.  A few months ago there was a gunfight at this hospital when 2 families got into an argument.

All part of the colour.

Food.  I can't complain because I was there for surgery.  However, after 2 days of nothing and 3 days of boiled chicken and soupy rice it was getting boring to say the least.  The sound of the dinner trolley is the day's excitement.  It got to be a joke between us and the trolley lady.  Boiled chicken again.  On the last day I got roast chicken.  What a delight.

I lost 2 kilos.

So I'm home and recovering.