Part 5 – Sitia, Modern Minoans

and the Cretan Medical System

Our return drive from Kato Zakros to Sitia was shorter and more disappointing than planned.  Originally, we had planned to make several stops along the way, one of them just past Paleokastro village to see Vai, the famous “Palm Forest”.  This is the location of a beautiful sandy beach, backed by thousands of palm trees.  We had read many stories about this ‘palm forest’, one was that they were planted by the Arabs, when they conquered Crete.  Another was that they were planted by Saracens pirates who used to hide nearby.  Yet another story says the forest was built in ancient times by Egyptian soldiers, who had come to help the ancient town of Itanos in one of its conflicts. 

In any case, the forest became popular in the 1970’s by the last of the Hippies, turning it into a horrible camping area and dump.  It now is owned by the local Monastery Toplou, and has become a popular tourist attraction.

As we drove through this area, we noticed the occasional irrigation water systems.  Most of these were for watering the thousands of olive trees growing nearby.

For us, we continued to drive down the highway towards Sitia, as I did not feel like taking the detour just to see some palm trees.  As we continued towards Sitia, Diana kept expressing her concern about my driving, something she rarely does.  Unknown to me at the time, but visible to Diana, something was working on my system, obviously affecting my driving.  By the time we reached Sitia, I was very tired and after checking into the hotel, I went to our room for a nap.  I called the rental car place and asked them to pick up the car at the hotel, as I didn’t feel like driving it the short distance to return it.

After a good night’s sleep, we headed down the next morning for breakfast, but I was still not feeling that well, so we just hung around the hotel for the morning. 

Minoan (Cretan) Medical System

As the hours passed, I was experiencing a pain across my chest, causing us both significant concern.  The pain was becoming worse as time passed, and we decided to take a taxi to the hospital to have it checked.

I refer to the “Minoan” Medical system, when actually it was Cretan or the Greek system.  Although a little rough around the edges, I would class their system as a ‘no frills’ system, but very effective and efficient.

As we arrived at the emergency department of Sitia Hospital we were dropped off in front of a door which read “Emergency Department” in Greek.  The location was almost like the back door of the place, nothing special, and hardly any room for an ambulance to arrive and unload.

In any case, I was taken in almost immediately, put on a gurney, and was attended by several doctors, nurses and specialists.  I suppose it is the same all over, when someone arrives with chest pains, they check it out pretty fast.  Within a half to one hour, I had a EKG, X-Ray, Ultra-sound, and several blood tests, as a couple of doctors checked and probed me all over.  All this in about one tenth of the time it would take back home.  I was very impressed with the Greek medical system and felt very comfortable with their findings so far.  It did not take long for them to determine that my heart was OK, and I most likely had a problem in my gall bladder.  By this time, all my original symptoms had disappeared, and I was feeling a little better.  But, as I lay there going through additional probes and tests I became chilled, and developed violent shakes and shivers, a sure sign of a severe infection.  I think they had already put me on antibiotics, but admitted me and Diana as well.

For some reason, the next day or so is a blur in both our memories, but we knew we were admitted and put in a ward with four beds.  Diana also was allowed to stay in the room as well and had her own bed.  The next day, they must have figured we could go, so we were released.  Diana paid the bill, which was very reasonable.  Along with the receipts and medical papers, they had given me some prescriptions written in Greek, all together in an envelope.  Unfortunately, they did not emphasize the importance of these papers, and they had also included prescriptions further antibiotic treatments, but nobody told us we should fill them immediately and continue taking them.  We returned to the hotel, and we tried unsuccessfully to carry on our vacation. 

Not so, I wasn’t feeling that good, and after a big dinner at the hotel, I slept the remainder of that day and all night.  The next day, we asked the Hotel manager if he knew an English speaking doctor who did house calls.  No problem, he had someone on the phone within minutes, and an English speaking lady doctor came to our room shortly after.  Her name was Dorettta Tsirigotaki, just in case any of my readers need a doctor on their next trip to Sitia, Crete.  She was very good, asked just the right questions and probed me in just the right places.  She figured out very quickly I had an infection of my gall bladder, and when she looked, some of the prescriptions the hospital had given us were for antibiotics for that problem, but we had not filled those prescriptions as we didn’t realize we had them.  She also recommended I return to the hospital for further observations and treatment.  Then Diana headed out to fill the antibiotic prescription, trying to find a pharmacy in the neighbourhood. Not knowing a lot of Greek, she did very well, soon finding a (Farmakeio), in Greek Φαρμακείο.  One thing that makes it easy in Greece, in fact most of Europe, is that all pharmacies have a big Green Cross sign, usually brightly lit or in neon letters.

So off on another taxi ride to the hospital.  This time, we were recognized on arrival (It’s those crazy Canadians again!).  Diana asked one of the nurses as we arrived “Did you save our bed”, and she answered that yes, they did.  Again, I was subjected to a complete examination, tests, and the installation of a catheter.  We barely got settled, and Diana was sent back to the hotel to pick up my regular meds.  If she knew then what was about to happen, and how long we were going to be in there, she could have picked up a few more clothes.  We had no clothes packed with us, just what we were wearing.  She picked up my meds and when she returned to the hospital, they would not let her in until she had a Covid test.  They gave her (in fact both of us) a Covid test, and we both tested positive!

So there we were, locked in a Covid isolation ward in Sitia Crete, wondering what next.  As I said, it was a four bed ward, with another couple in the other two beds.  The other couple were Greek, could not speak English, and with our limited Greek, we often resorted to Google-translate.  They were from Vai, the village of Palm Tree fame which we had by-passed a couple of days previous.  I think only he was positive, as they let her go home a few times to pick things up, and she managed to get back in. They were very nice and kind to us, and during one trip home, the wife picked up a pair of pyjamas for me and a blouse for Diana.

The next couple of weeks were what we now refer to as “the vacation from Hell”.  Stuck in a Covid isolation ward, I was suffering from an extreme gall bladder infection, so they were taking my temperature constantly, sucking blood out of me for blood tests, and all this time my fatigue was so extreme I could hardly move.  When I was threatened with the possibility of pneumonia if I didn’t at least sit up and move, I tried to sit up and move a little each day.  Unfortunately, no walking, so my body was deteriorating quickly.  The nurses would come into the room at midnight, flip on the bright overhead lights, and proceed to take my temperature, blood pressure, or suck more of my blood.  I was on a catheter, so thankfully I didn’t have to get up to have a pee.  This actually made things worse, as my body was slowly going downhill. 

The wrath of Zeus

One day, the perpetual sunshine of Sitia was interrupted by a rainstorm.  Not just a regular rain, but Thunder, lightning, and a cloudburst.  When you are on Crete, and always surrounded by reminders of the mythical past and the many gods that ruled things, I could not help but think Zeus was pissed off with us for something, or he was just trying to make a point.  Sitia is located close to the base of the mountain with the cave where he was reputed to have been born, the mountain we had visited in the previous week.  The rain came down hard, all day.  We were ‘safe’ in the hospital, even though the lower floor was flooded.  In the rest of the town it was a disaster, as huge amounts of water came down in waves from the hills above, flooding the town, pushing cars around and floating everything that was not anchored down out towards the beach.

On more that one occasion, they brought in a wheelchair to wheel me out for some X-Rays or scans.  On one of these journeys, the wheelchair they brought did not have brakes, so when I tried to get in or out of it, the chair rolled back, dumping me on the floor.  Of course, they were apologetic, and I was very cautious to make sure the chair had working brakes from that point on.

My diet was a bland combination of broth, pieces of dry melba toast, nothing with butter or any oil in it (Gall Bladder diet) and occasional juice that we purchased from the ‘store’.  With this ‘diet’, I managed to lose over thirty pounds, a diet I do not recommend.  The ‘store’ was a mythical place somewhere in the hospital that we could call on the only phone in the room.  We had to order whatever we wanted, and it would be delivered sometime later.  We ordered bottles of water, some of various fruit juices, and Diana managed to order her cappuccino every morning.  We also ordered boxes of tissues, rolls of paper towels, and at one point, ordered some toilet paper.  That was an interesting problem we had to deal with, there was four persons in the room, sharing one bathroom, as we were running low on toilet paper.  Diana took one of the nurses aside and with a dramatic attempt with sign language, tried to tell the nurse we needed more toilet paper, before we ran out.  We were even thinking about send out a raiding party in the middle of the night to steal some from other rooms down the hall.

At this time, we were trying to get some action out of our insurance company, who, when we first contacted them, promised they would have a ‘liaison’ person on the ground shortly to help us with all of this, and try to get us home.  This promise never materialized, and we received no on site help from them at all.  Our daughter-in-law Anne, back home was spending hours of her time trying to get some action out of the insurance company, the airlines, the hospital or whoever would help us.  She eventually enlisted the help of the Canadian Embassy in Athens, who also was in touch with our hospital.  A lovely woman, Areti Velissariou was her contact in the “Embassy of Canada to the Hellenic Republic”, and I think we owe her a vote of gratitude for helping us out.  When Anne explained our toilet paper problem, we suspect that they might have contacted the hospital, because shortly after, some extra rolls showed up in our bathroom.  I think our toilet paper crisis came close to causing an international incident?

Meanwhile, the hospital was trying to arrange gall bladder surgery for me in the Heraklion hospital, a larger hospital that could do that kind of surgery.  The problem was, I was still testing positive for Covid, and they could not transfer me until I was negative.

Each time the doctor came by the room, he tested me for Covid, and was always disappointed when I tested positive.  Then one day, after almost three weeks, he tested me again and suddenly yelled “Congratulations!  You’re negative.”

This triggered a series of rapid actions that had us packed up and out of the hospital within an hour!  Mind you, we didn’t have much to pack up, as we had virtually no clothes, just what we came in with, periodically washed and hung either in the bathroom, or out on our little sundeck, weighted down with water bottles or whatever we could find.

I was then transferred by wheelchair first to the cashier, where Diana had to put all the charges for our stay on our visa, again, quite reasonable considering it included our ‘room and board’ for a couple of weeks, medical tests, doctors and specialists, etc.  Then to the entrance, where a Mercedes transfer ambulance was waiting. 

My first thought was “Good, a Mercedes, should be a good ride.”  No, not a chance.  The vehicle was a ‘bare-bones’ metal can.  What followed was what I called “a ride from Hell”.  They strapped me roughly into a very narrow metal cot with a thin pad that served as a mattress, with one strap over my midsection, no padding, no cushions on the sides, so each time we turned or went around a corner, I was thrown violently against the metal side wall.  I had to hold on to some bars attached to side of the vehicle tightly to make sure I didn’t bounce too hard.  After a two and a half hour high speed ride like this, I was sore for days.  Corners?  This was a secondary road on an island, with barely a straight stretch in the entire length.  Part way along the road to Heraklion, the Sitia hospital called the ambulance and said we still owed for what we purchased at the ‘store’.  It was about eighty Euros, which we paid to the ambulance attendant, hoping she would pass it on to the ‘store’ when she returned.  We assumed that when we ‘checked out’, and paid our bill, it would have included the store charges.

So there I was, ‘installed’ in the hospital in Heraklion, supposedly waiting for a gallbladder operation.  In the meantime, we had paid our bill at the Itanos hotel in Sitia, and I asked the manager if he could have someone go to our room and pack up our stuff.  As you can imagine, it was scattered around the room in a normal ‘lived-in’ fashion, so we knew it would not be easy for someone to do this.  I also directed him to purchase another suitcase if necessary, as they would not be packing things as tightly as we would have, and would need more room.  No problem, Michalis assured me they could do this, and just add it onto my bill.  The next step was a little more complicated, as I asked him to pack up all our bags and send them to the hotel in Heraklion.  This too, he managed to do, and before long, all our ‘stuff’ was in Heraklion.  Koodos to Michalis Antonidakis for showing such great friendship and customer service to a visitor to their hotel.  Thanks Michalis!  Efharisto Poli!

Diana needed a break from hospital life, so we tried to book a room at our hotel in Heraklion.  Sorry, we’re all booked, so she had to sit up beside me all night in the hospital.  She managed to book a room the next day and went to the Hotel for a good night’s sleep and a real meal (with wine).(actually two glasses of wine!)

Things were going OK, until she decided to return to the hospital.  A woman sentry stopped her at the door and asked her for her “Covid Certificate”.  Of course, Diana didn’t have it, as they had taken all our papers when we arrived at the hospital the previous day!  She was told she would have to go to a pharmacy and get one!  No help was provided by this ‘sentry’, who only pointed up the street, indicating there might be a pharmacy there.  I think she had just received her military training and had an inflated sense of her importance, so when Diana tried that pharmacy, it was closed, as many of the pharmacies were on Sunday.  So, she struck off on her own to find a pharmacy to get her ‘Covid Certificate’.  Problem – most of the pharmacies were closed, so she began to walk the streets, trying to find one that was open.  She almost succeeded, except that the first one she found that was open did not provide that service.  A kind man came out of a restaurant nearby and told  her “You should go and find a taxi driver that speaks English. You have to find a pharmacy that gives Covid shots or did tests and provides certificates.”  All very good, thought Diana, if I only knew how to speak Greek!  So, she struck out again to find a taxi driver who could speak English, and was willing to drive around looking for a pharmacy that a) was open, b) spoke English, c) Gave Covid shots or tests, and d) provided a ‘Certificate’ for this.  Luckily, there are many English speaking taxis in Heraklion, and before long, she was cruising the streets of Heraklion in a taxi with a very friendly driver who could could speak English, searching for a Covid Certificate, so she could get back in the hospital to visit her husband.

When I heard of her adventures later, I was very proud of her for striking out in a strange foreign city, not being able to speak the language, wandering around with a difficult task like that.  I have to say, Diana is my favourite Street Walker.

Soon, she returned to the hospital and was admitted instantly, the ‘sentry’ giving only a cursory glance at Diana’s ‘papers’.  Diana seized the opportunity to advise the woman that the pharmacy she recommended was closed on Sunday.

An ‘Ikea’ assembly job

In a ‘no frills’ hospital, you are not pampered.  If you don’t like the activity or the noise, suck it up!  I mentioned before how the nurses would barge into the room at midnight or three AM, flip on the bright overhead light, just to take your temperature or check another vital.  One night in Heraklion, it sounded like a construction zone out in the hall.  Sure enough, they were assembling a new hospital bed, I guessed it must have been from Ikea, as there were hundreds of metal parts, all crashing on the floor, clanging together, and causing no end of comments and frustrations with the assemblers.

Unknown to us, my gall-bladder procedure had been delayed because of my Covid complications, and at that time, the insurance company was finally indicating they wanted to return me to Canada asap.  No timing, methods, or any idea of how?  In the meantime, I had some serious discussions with the chief surgeon of the hospital, who explained the procedure of an ‘endoscopic’ operation for me, which should happen soon.  Soon?

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