Ohi Ohi Ohi - A message from the Greek Gods

I took the above photo yesterday morning, when the deep, blue sky was cross-hatched with so many vapour trails, and the sun glinting off quite a number of planes, flying at different altitudes. (How different to the sky photo that I took during last week's walk, during the flight ban) At least, I believe these were vapour trails - or could those heavenly Greek gods have been trying to send me a message, and was the sun reflecting off their slings and arrows?

Last Friday Mike set off to Lichfield, wearing his Green Man kit, to join in the St George's Day celebrations. He told me he'd be shaking the collecting tin. Later in the day, he hobbled back into the house, with a pulled calf muscle, sustained whilst negotiating a reverse move, during the one dance he had attempted. I admire his positive attitude in trying to live life as normal, despite his cancer, but I wasn't too pleased with him on this occasion. "Did you warm up first?" No - of course not. "Well, I hope you'll have recovered by the time we fly to Greece, especially as we've paid over the odds for the leg-room seats - and they won't let you sit by the emergency exit if you aren't fit anyway!" I nagged. Mike continued to hobble all over the weekend, and despite the cold compresses his lower leg was decidedly swollen.

Yesterday, after a visit to the GP and a scan at hospital, my (and his) worst fears were confirmed. He had a small DVT behind his knee. Surprisingly, according to the experts, this must have been there prior to the injury which, thankfully, brought it to light. After blood tests and injections, he's back home & on Warfarin for the next month. The holiday is off. We will not be flying to Thassos on Sunday. I will be emptying the half-filled cases that are taunting me each time I pass the spare bedroom. The phrase books, sketch pads, flippers and hand-luggage will go back to their designated places. We feel gutted - but the most important thing is that the DVT was diagnosed before we set off on holiday, unlike last year!

Last May, and ten days into a perfect holiday on Corfu, we dropped into the local docs, for him to check out Mike's stiff and swollen lower leg. Before we knew it, he was admitted to a private hospital in Corfu town with - yes, you've guessed it - a DVT! Following a further ten days, when he reclined on his bed, looking deceptively fit and tanned, and being cared for hand and foot (and leg), my stamina and resolve was thoroughly tested. Our excellent rep had moved me from the resort to a nearby hotel, and over those trying days I slogged back and forth to the hospital, soon finding the short cuts and picking up tips from the locals on how to cross the roads without becoming a casualty myself.

I think one of the worst things I had to overcome, was sitting outside the hotel, eating my breakfast and evening meal on my own. In no way did it resemble Shirley Valentine's experience. My toes were not being caressed by the lapping waves of the blue sea - instead there was a fast, noisy and dusty port road just yards from my table, with a continuous stream of trucks, boy racers on motorbikes, and tour coaches, most of them making full use of their hooters and horns. After the first evening, after bolting down my rather unpleasant meal , I thought I'd take a walk to find a small taverna where I could enjoy a cold drink and make some phone calls home. Unfortunately, everywhere seemed full of men, probably ferry and port workers, and I did receive some rather strange looks, as I strolled past looking for a suitable venue.

Still, we both made the best of a difficult situation. There were some hilarious (and some rather sad) moments, shared with the other English and Irish patients and their other halves, and the lovely nurses and doctors at the hospital. We couldn't have wished for more excellent care, both by the hospital and the holiday company (well done Sunvil!). The thrombosis was very likely due to the outward journey on probably the most cramped plane we have ever experienced. Mike made a good recovery, and we flew home on a very spacious plane, with three seats for Mike to recline along, and one across the aisle for me as his 'non-medical assistant'.

What else can I say? Missing out on the holiday we were really looking forward to is pretty hard to accept at the moment, but we were so close to repeating last year's experience and Mike's health is paramount. At the moment it looks like flying is off the agenda, maybe for ever.


Still, the Spring flowers are quite wonderful here at the moment. To lighten up the blog a bit, here's a shot of some tall, creamy-yellow tulips, growing in an old sink in our back garden. Just been down to the plot. The salad bed is thriving, the potatoes are all up, flowers on the strawberries, red and black currants, enough rhubarb for Mike and me, peas & beans doing OK and the birds singing away in the trees. Had a chat with 'young' Lionel before leaving.


Then, pulling the gate behind me, I trapped and scraped the back of my heel under it, and had to hobble home but not hobbling quite as much as Mike, who came home with a borrowed walking stick.


Hopefully, tomorrow will be a better day all round!

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