I was taken in to see the Doctor who examined my hand and then the X-rays and then the hand again. He declared,
“We need to operate now to save your finger. We can repair the broken bones, remove your nail and repair the cuticle which has been crushed. We can do that within the next half hour, and I recommend that you do agree or you may lose the use of your finger and maybe even your finger itself in due course”
What was I to do? I agreed.
Once again, back to the Reception Desk where the Doctor there on duty once again asked for the card and PIN number.
By now, I was very nervous waiting to see if the transaction was approved; so many requests for expenditure in such a short space of time.
He then said, “Please wait whilst I will get a Porter to take you to the Operating Theatre.”
I soon understood that I had agreed to hire the Surgeon (the Doctor who had just examined me), an Anaesthetist, a Nurse, a Porter and a whole operating Theatre. It was the ‘whole nine yards’ as the American expression goes for ‘everything’ and more!
Soon I wheeled into the theatre, naked under my green gown; I lay there on the table.
“How are you with pain?” the Surgeon enquired.
“Not good.” I replied.
“Hmmn. Pity. This is going to hurt.” Came his response.
He proceeded to give me four injections in the base of my finger, and sure enough, it hurt like hell.
A little time later, he enquired,
“Do you want to look?”
I replied,
“No thanks. Please just go ahead.”
“No. No. No. You don’t understand. I have finished and I wanted you to see if you wanted to look at my work?”
Wow! Finished? I didn’t feel a thing after the injections!
As I looked over at him, I got a shock, as it was just like in the movies.
As a specialist Micro Surgeon, he was wearing spectacles like a pair of binoculars.
I looked down at my finger and apart from the missing fingernail (exposed pink flesh), it looked like nothing had happened to it. There wasn’t even a sign of the micro stitches that he had inserted as he sewed my cuticle back together.
Amazing!
Out of surgery, I was taken back to the Reception Desk and I was still in my surgery gown.
“Card and PIN please.”
They were not going to let me get dressed before I had paid!
As I entered my PIN once more, I was really concerned as this was now the fifth entry from the same location in under three hours. Would it go through? I needed it to.
What a great sound it is when you hear the card machine start printing off your approved payment receipt!
I went to get dressed and was then taken back to talk to the Surgeon who gave me advice on how to look after my hand during the coming weeks. Also for him to confirm that he wanted to see me again in six weeks.
So, here I was some four hours on from closing my hotel door and walking out of the hospital with MasterCard receipts totalling some 1,560 Euros which was not planned or expected expenditure.
I needed a drink!
It wasn’t over yet.
Before embarking on the ‘tour’ of the Hospital, I had ‘phoned my Client to explain, and to suggest that I would be able to continue day two after lunchtime.
When I left the Hospital, I ‘phoned again to report what had happened and to say that I would not be returning that day after all.
“Why not?” she enquired.
I need a drink and your site is alcohol free.” I replied.
“More to the point, the pain is incredible and I don’t think I will perform too well.” I had continued by way of a full explanation.
She understood and I said I would soon be in touch.
Back to the Garden Centre to retrieve my car and time to head for home. I felt a bit guilty about leaving my car for so long so I purchased a pot plant!
I knew I was homeward bound but at that precise moment I did not know that I was not out of trouble or free from the need to spend more money.
There I was driving with my hand heavily bandaged and my arm in a sling. Once more leaning over to change gear etc. but this journey was harder as I had to stop at the Toll Booths to pay. This meant more leaning over to the coin box on my left and to pull away from the booth changing gears as I accelerated away. Still, I persevered as I wanted to get home and get that drink which I had now determined would be a large, very large whisky!
The trouble that I was experiencing at the Toll Booths was not to be the trouble.
Steering one-handed, and going quite fast along the motorway, and dreaming about the ‘medicinal’ whisky, I was rudely awakened from my reverie by a loud bang!
Oh no! Another blow out!
I almost lost control of the car as it weaved all over the road as I struggled to bring it to a stop. Thank goodness Greek motorways are almost deserted (except for National Holidays). I was lucky not to hit the central reservation or crash into the barriers on the hard shoulder.
I just could not believe it!
Upon examination, I discovered that it was the other front tyre. Unbelievable; it too had a large hole in the tread of the tyre. How? Who knows? I didn’t feel a thing until the ‘bang’ but I must have run over something.
Some 97 minutes later I had managed to remove the blown out tyre and put the ‘get you home’ on the wheel. One of the hardest and most painful tasks that I have ever tackled. Maybe the few cars that passed me as I struggled had not seen that I was trying to do it one handed? Nobody stopped; I was on my own!
Well, I cannot even begin to describe the look on the face of the owner of the Tyre Dealer when once again I pulled on to his forecourt and asked if he tyre in stock to fit to the car. Fortunately he had reordered more of the size I required. It was the only thing that had made me smile that day.
Eventually I got home without further incident, and that ‘medicinal’ whisky was VERY large indeed!
Over the following few days, I met up with friends, and one of them, upon hearing of the cost involved, suggested that I change my name to ‘Goldfinger’ as the little finger had cost a lot of money to repair!
TO CUT A LONG STORY SHORT ….
…. November 2011 – Remember, Remember The 5th Of November
During October, I returned to Athens not only to complete the day two module of work for my Client, but also to complete a separate two day assignment. Unfortunately, I was not able to do the three days simultaneously. So I had to make two separate trips one week apart. Uppermost in my mind was the thought that thank goodness I had this extra booking as it would help pay for not only the repair to the water system and the building of a new bathroom but also the cost of the operation.
We had not budgeted for any of those expenses.
So now November had arrived.
Well it is true as usually the 5th of November is remembered in the UK as Firework Night in celebration of Guy Fawkes trying to blow up the Houses of Parliament in London in 1605. However, I have reason to remember the 5th of November 2011 for a completely different reason.
It was to be yet another life-changing moment in Stavros’ life.
My Brother Bill, his wife Jeanette and I were visiting the local bazaar in Stoupa, and as we were leaving, Bill saw a photo of a house for sale on the board of a local Real Estate Agent.
“Hey! Stuart, where do you think this property is?” He asked.
I looked at the photo and read the description. I didn’t know.
In hindsight, maybe somewhat stupidly, I replied,
“Well, let’s drive around and see if we can find it.”
Find it we did, and buy it he did!
The life-changing moment was that Stavros was appointed ‘Power of Attorney’ to complete the entire purchase process on their behalf! There was a problem with the electronic transfer of funds for the deposit and that he and Jeanette had to return to the UK to sort it out.
Being �
��Power of Attorney’ was to be a steep learning curve as I had to visit and work with Government Departments, Tax Offices, Banks, Surveyors, Real Estate Agents, Lawyers, Notaries, Telephone and Electricity Companies, and the Owners of the property.
I completed all of the paperwork, received the funds from Bill and purchased the house. Bill and Jeanette had become the proud owners of a small 10 year old bungalow situated in 800 square metres of tranquil olive groves on a hill above the town of Stoupa. They called it ‘Little Gem.’
It is 4.76 kilometres from Meerkat Manor, not that I was concerned about it being too close!
File Note: Over the following 24 months, Bill and Jeanette transformed it into a desirable holiday home.
TO CUT A LONG STORY SHORT ….
…. 27th December - Another Life-changing Moment Was Coming!
During week two of December, we harvested our olives and the crop produced a remarkable 56 kilos of oil. We use around 18 – 20 kilos of oil during 12 months, so I knew that I had to plan to sell the surplus at bazaars to try and recoup some of the harvesting costs.
Author’s File Note: Thank goodness for the local Bazaar and a chance for Stavros to sell his surplus of olive oil. Stavros managed to sell the surplus 36 kilos. He struck it rich within the first 30 minutes of setting up his stall. One buyer purchased 20 kilos and three others purchased the balance of the stock for sale. As Stavros packed up to go home, he decided that he must have sold it too cheap! Never mind, it provided some useful cash to go towards ‘living.’
Now, this achievement (large harvest) was not the ‘life-changing moment’ referred to, and neither was the fact that the Electricity, ’phone and Water bills arrived on the same day; Christmas Eve.
Great presents huh? !
We had a great Christmas Day starting off by going to Pantazi Beach to watch the ‘Mad Dogs and Englishmen’ who swim on Christmas Day followed by Hot Coffee, Soup and Brandy.
Well, Stavros stuck to the Metaxa Brandy!
Following the trip to the beach, Stavros and Valerie had a quiet Christmas Day lunch together on the upstairs terrace sitting in the brilliant sunshine.
They went for a walk on Boxing Day up across the track on the mountain ridge above Meerkat Manor. As they walked, they decided that life was good. They were poor but happy.
Their life-changing day was to be 27th December.
Stavros remembers like this ....
.... We awoke on the morning of December 27th to yet another warm and sunny day, so we decided to go for another walk. We decided to walk along the coastal path across to Stoupa and back. No rush; just a gentle and leisurely stroll.
Well that was the plan. This is what transpired.
We had bought some ‘loose’ cat food from the local supermarket (we had run out whilst awaiting an Amazon delivery of the cats’ preferred brand), and the cats were not eating it. So, I suggested that we take it to a spot near the bins where the cats scavenge for food and leave it for them.
We duly set off with the bag in hand.
As we neared the outskirts of the village, we passed by a smallholding and noticed that there were not the usual two dogs in the yard but three. The two regulars were, as usual, sleeping in the forecourt and attached on long running leads, but we now saw that there was a third dog nestled down between the two and not on a lead at all. As we passed and looked at the third dog we really didn’t think too much about it, and walked on past them.
A few minutes later, I happened to look over my shoulder and saw that this third dog was following us. It was a large black dog.
“Do not look back.” I cautioned. “Do not look back, but take my word for it, the third dog we saw is following us.”
As night follows day, Valerie ignored my caution and looked back!
“Good looking.” She said as she looked over her shoulder.
“We do not need to encourage it, and we certainly do not need to adopt a dog.” I cautioned further.
“Look. Let’s put the cat food down off the road where it cannot see it, and then walk quickly on through the village and up to the coastal path to see if it will stop following us and go back to the smallholding.” This was my considered advice.
We put the food down, and quickly moved on towards the village and the coastal path.
Valerie looked back. The dog had found the food and busy devouring it. Cat food? It must be very hungry.
“Keep going. Don’t look back again. Let’s get moving.” This was my observation and suggestion to try and put space between us and the large black dog.
It didn’t work. We kept going, but it kept following!
The walk along the coastal path is a very pleasant and easy activity. The path is 2 metres wide and smooth cement and runs along the very edge of the cliffs above the sea along the entire distance from Agios Nikolaos to Stoupa.
‘Black Dog’ kept coming.
When we arrived in Stoupa, we walked along the bay and noticed a friend sitting at a bar having coffee. We went to join him and were somewhat relieved when we realised that ‘Black Dog’ had not followed us. In fact is nowhere to be seen.
… well not for the first few minutes!
As we sat chatting and sipping our coffees looking out over the sandy bay fronting the sea, we suddenly spied ‘Black Dog’ running at speed across the bay. It was just like watching a race horse galloping; even leaning into the curve of the bend of the bay. Actually, it was a wonderfully moving sight; a dog obviously enjoying the ‘chase’ across the sand.
Eventually we finished our conversation and ‘catch up’ conversation and left for our return trip.
As we strolled along the sea front, I remembering saying,
“O K. Let’s not look back. We do not want to encourage this dog in any way shape or form.”
15 minutes later we were at the start of the coastal path and thought we had shaken off ‘Black Dog’.
Wrong!
We heard the footsteps behind us, and lo and behold there was ‘Black Dog’ following us once more.
Stavros issued instructions now, and said in a slightly more urgent tone,
“Don’t look. Don’t encourage it. We do not want a dog. We have three cats.”
Have you guessed the outcome yet?
‘Black Dog’ followed us all of the way home and sat on our doormat outside the front door. It stayed there for hours.
Around early evening it ran off.
“It’s gone! Thank goodness.”
This was our joint (relieved?), sounding response.
Wrong to feel relieved; it came back some two hours later! It must have gone back to see its friends to update them on the day’s adventure.
This same pattern of sitting on the doormat and running off and back again went on for three days.
There were numerous questions to be answered:
1. Did somebody else own this dog?
2. Was it lost?
3. If so, how do we return it?
4. Had it been abandoned and was looking for a home?
5. Ours?
Therefore, we had decisions to make. Fundamentally, they were as follows:
1. If it was abandoned, did we want to adopt it?
2. Did we want a dog? We had not planned to own one.
3. If we ‘adopted’ this dog, how would the cats react?
4. How old was it?
5. What would the Vet’s bill be to check it out?
6. Could we afford it?
We took photos of ‘Black Dog’ and posted them on websites to see if anybody recognised and / or claimed the dog. Nobody did so that seemed to answer the question with regard to it being abandoned.
So, our answers to the questions 1 – 6 were as follows:
1. Yes.
2. Yes.
3. They will have to adjust.
4. We’ll find out from the Vet.
5. We would soon find out!
6. No, but our MasterCard credit is still good!
Photo: ‘Black Dog’<
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Having made the decision to keep ‘Black Dog’ we built a makeshift shelter come kennel for it to sleep in at night.
In answering the questions, we had agreed that if nobody claimed it, and if the cats accepted it, then we would keep it.
Within a week, there were no claims, so we built a kennel for it, and the cats became resigned to having a dog in their life!
Going back to the first night, we built the makeshift kennel out of a wooden pallet for a base and a tarpaulin for a cover and located it under the roof on the wood store. We purchased a big rope and attached it ‘Black Dog’ and settled it down.
Now, this bit is important.
Throughout the whole time that ‘Black Dog’ had been around us:
It had never barked; not a sound.
We had assumed that maybe it had a damaged larynx or something.
It was black with grey flecks of hair around the mouth and eyes so we assumed it was old(er), maybe 9 or 10 years old.
That first night, one of our assumptions was disproved. At 3am in the morning there was a loud bark!
I got up and went out to investigate. There was ‘Black Dog’ stuck close to the tree. It had clearly ravelled the rope around the tree and didn’t know how to unravel itself. It barked for attention and help!
The second night (or morning should I say), we got another shock. I had tied ‘Black Dog’ back on to the rope and settled it into the kennel and said good night.
When I opened the front door the next morning (to go around and see how it was in the kennel), there was ‘Black Dog’ sitting on the front doormat!
What? Whoa!
“What are you doing here?”
‘Black Dog’ sat there just looking at me. Mind you, it was a friendly look accompanied by a wagging tail.
It seemed that ‘Black Dog’ had chewed through the thick rope!
Stavros duly went to buy a chain to replace the rope.
‘Black Dog’ stayed in the kennel overnight and in the garden during the day with the chain attached to stop it wandering or running off.
We had decided to be responsible and have it checked over by the Vet for health / injections etc. The second assumption was disproved was when we took it to the Vet.
To Cut a Long Story Short Page 4