Through these Eyes Part 52

I had my 8th treatment today and the final one of the week. The doctor had to stick me with the needle 2 times before striking a rich stream of blood into which he could inject his serum. I thanked good fortune for the smaller needle as he delved into my wrist.

The afternoon brought on a dull ache in my I liver which gradually subsided and disappeared after numerous excursions to the bathroom.

The diarrhea was still raging in full force.

Jan. 22, 1983... I spent most of the day employed in writing letters which will be taken to the states and mailed via "Sharon express."

Norm called around 7:30. We were all still in the restaurant finishing our supper when Ullysses summoned me to the phone. I was so happy to hear from him... it was great that he called.

Jan. 23, 1983... Sharon left for home this morning around 7:30. I was unable to see her off due to a lack of cooperation from my bowels.

After several attacks, I made my way down to meet civilization.

Breakfast was the customary oatmeal with a side dish of peaches.

Feeling rather peaked, I ascended once more to my hermitage on the 2nd floor.

More than slightly depressed, I had to escape to the bathroom for a silent cry when Dad persisted to rattle the change in his pockets.

Somehow my nerves wouldn't take the incessant jingle, combined with the knowledge that he was doing same out of sheer boredom and nervousness.

It would break his heart if he should know how nervous his action and loud speech make me. There is not one thing in this room to cushion noise. Dad would do anything for me if it would make my disease go away. Some things, as always, are better left unsaid.

Lunch brought a rather nice change and lifted my spirits considerably.

I was able to have fish, and although it is not customary for me, I relished each morsel, along with a salad and peaches.

Weekends are more difficult to withstand than week days, often times.

I seem to fall into a depression and am susceptible to numerous emotional tides. Homesickness is a heavy load when one doesn't feel well. I love to watch the clouds from my bed through the room window.

One lazily floats along while another totally overtakes its careless rival. Perhaps the sky is the sole glimpse of home that I have here in Athens... the sky is always a constant factor.

Jan. 25, 1983... Monday and today found me in quite good health and happily high spirited as well. Sunday was a bleak day for me... it seems that homesickness. .h.i.ts the hardest on weekends. There is definitely a lot to be said for a routine, especially in a situation such as this.

Monday I spent much of the day in the lobby. My desire to be sociable and mingle with the others returns when I feel good. The morning dawned with rain, although the afternoon heat soon shooed the clouds away to other parts. I received the questions I had asked of Helen, fully answered.

Breakfast was transformed into a veritable form of euphoria for me, as I was able to add to my morning fare a delicious "bear claw" donut.

After a brief rest I descended upon humanity in good health and spirits. Aiding my good mood was the fact that we were able to change our return flight date to the 9th of February and sign up for our seats.

Jan. 26, 1983... Hump day! After my shot I feasted on 4 left-over Greek donuts before ordering my regular breakfast. I again ordered oatmeal and a bear claw, but was forced to take half of the donut to my room to eat later. Lunch was much more than I was prepared for... had fish, green beans, and a cabbage/carrot salad. Needless to say, I found myself happily full (altho' I wasn't nearly as full as last nite at the party when I consumed salad, rice, nuts and 6 donuts)!

After lunch, I retired to my four walls to wash my hair. That in itself is an experience to behold. One has two options, the first being to utilize the sink, whose drain is in dire need of dran-o. In this case, one remains dry but runs the risk of accidentally flipping one's locks down into the stench of the drain and thereby defeating the initial purpose of washing the hair. The second option is to bend over the contraption which is in Greece, labeled "a shower." This consists of a porcelain base and a faucet with a hose and hand-held shower head. One selecting this means of shampooing the hair must lean over the base of the shower and manipulate the shower head in such a fashion that will allow the entire bathroom to remain as dry as possible. Leg cramps, of course, are an acute possibility in this prime position. Another hazard could be the wet floor, for it is always wet after having used the shower. To keep dry is a laughable impossibility with this device; any articles of clothing should be placed in another room. I proceeded with the latter method and became quite damp.

My next operation to perform was the washing and drying of my nuts. It may sound crazy, this nut-washing ritual of mine, but I look at it this way; the last thing I need during my stay is to get sick from eating filthy nuts! So, I wash them, because one never knows whose dirty hands may have processed these nuts!

Another report I must make.! I have had a firm bowel movement! Joy of joys! It is the first since my arrival and the beginning of my injections.

Mom suffered a hair-raising scare when she feared that her pa.s.sport was lost. While madly searching through desk drawers and coat pockets, Dad calmly a.s.sured her that if she did not find it, she would simply spend the remainder of her days in Greece. It was found, incidentally, in a zippered compartment of her enormous purse from where, of course, it had never strayed.

On their daily excursion, Mom and Dad disposed of the 3 cans of green beans (purchased for my use) which were suspected to have an acute case of botulism; the top of the can was bowed. I took very kindly to their effort and was careful to stay on their good side until the beans were scattered on the hillside.

Jan. 28, 1983... Today wasn't as glorious as Friday's are built up to be. My blood test didn't drop into the 2's like I'd rather hoped it would. I was 3.I from 4.I, which was considered "good." One must realize, of course, that anything that happened around here is "good,"

whether it be a painful or uncomfortable reaction, a drastic blood count drop, or feeling terrific.

There has been a considerable amount of conversation on the subject of "how many shots" are enough. Some people would take as many as the doctor would willingly inject. I cannot live from one shot to the next. I feel that if this stupendous serum is doing the job, I'll know... the tumor will diminish in size. If after 3 months, there seems to be no "progress," why send blood. I don't take much stock in the blood tests anyway. Moreover, one cannot even conduct his life normally if he waits for test results. I have to be able to just say "enough" and live my life. I can't always be waiting... life is too uncertain to not give and take joy from each day. Simply "being" in existence is not, for me, what "living" is all about. I'll have been here a month when all is done and paid for, and 20 shots will have been administered. That's what I have figured upon, and what I am prepared to have, but it's all I'll have. You have to stop somewhere, and who's to say that will be it. One has to be able to let go... I let go a year ago, and I can't hang on to shreds of hope. That doesn't bring happiness.

Yesterday was a wonderful day aside from the shot. The doctor had a hard time finding my vein, and he doesn't seem to wait for it to surface anymore without first probing for it. After the shot, I couldn't sit because too many non-patients were there. Finally I dove for an empty seat, almost on the verge of crying.

After breakfast, Tasos took Mom and me to downtown Athens to shop for my fur coat. It was rather strange, because Christos also drove his rover with Donna and Margaret. We'd asked for 1 driver; we looked at 2 furriers, the first of which was owned by one of Chris' friends. He had a motley selection of furs which were over-priced but poorly constructed. I was distressed after that shop, but we continued on, stopping at a nice furrier who had well made coats but sold for more than we could afford. Our last stop was a furrier called Toronto Furs where Mom had wanted to go all along because she knew they had decent prices and furs. That's where I got my coat... a dark mink tail, finger-tip coat. It's very pretty and cost $337.00! I was pleased with it, and it's something I'll have for many years (bought with money I'd been given from friends).

We went to an oceanside restaurant (Donna, Tasos, Mom and me) afterwards. It was a beautiful day, and the food was good. It was the first day I could have bread, and their's was great. I felt as if it didn't happen, it was so nice. Mom offered to pay the bill, which was a lot more than we'd antic.i.p.ated for the size of the meal... (around $26.00). Then Mom paid Tasos 1000 drachma for taking us. . . it ended up being a rather expensive day. We didn't say anything about paying Chris... why should we... we'd only asked for one driver.

I got a letter from Jon when I came back... it was really nice.

Jan. 29, 1983... We all got up early and went on the 1 day cruise on the Aegean Sea. I was tired, but I had a good time. We didn't have very long to look around each island, but it still was a good tour.

On the Island Aegina, we took a bus tour on the winding roads and country-side to a site of ruins. I took many pictures, and it was quite a view from the top of the mountain. The next island, Poros, we had only a glimpse of because of the half hour time limit. The last island, Hydra, was nice and we were able to look at some shops.

I bought earrings and Mom a crocheted dress. I finally got rid of a rather pesty Tunisian who was following me around. I'd met him on the boat. I wanted to look at the island, not him. Norm and Jon called.

Jan. 30, 1983 (Sunday)... I woke up sick and had a temp of 101... it's going around here, as everyone seems to be ailing. Even in Athens.

Mom and Dad's church cla.s.s called at 6:15 and a lot of them talked...

were so surprised and pleased. It helped to have such support.

Feb. 3, 1983 (Thursday)... Dad was unfortunate enough to have caught the malady that has seemed to have stricken our hotel. Rumor has it the whole of Athens has had the germ. I also heard today that a new group of Americans are to arrive this coming Sun. but that they will be refused treatment. The Travel Agency supposedly sends people over to Greece despite warnings from Alivizatos to stop, because of the nice profit they reap from each booking. Alivizatos wants to work in his labs for a time and to do so, he needs to have a break from patients.

He's now treating some 90 Americans, plus an unknown number of Greeks.

(He should be quite well-off.)

One of the white patients was talking to a black man in our group and she remarked that it was in G.o.d's plan that white and black get along well together. Conversation then turned to the possibility of rejection of the new patients coming and she stated, "Well, we were just part of the plan and they're not part of G.o.d's plan."

The reasoning, to me, was incredulous.

Many of the guests are leaving Friday. . . tomorrow. . . for the U. S.

I'll really miss Connie and Ron. At supper many pictures were taken.

Feb 4, 1983 (Friday)... It was a real zoo today. Those leaving had their shots first and then the remaining people were taxied rapidly to and from the doctors. At 9:00 they took the people to the airports, all nearly having hernias, because the plane departs at 10:00 and it takes 40 min. to get to the airport. I'm glad we'll be taking a taxi.

Blood test today. . . he barely coaxed enough out to use. It bubbled and spurted so slowly, I was wondering if I'd get another stick.

I thought it might be appropriate if, at this time, I attempt to describe our hotel room. That which one first encounters is, of course, the door. It is equipped with a skeleton key lock which usually tends to deny rapid entry or exits; if one persists, the door will eventually open. However, if one is besieged by a severe case of diarrhea, it is advisable to think twice about locking the door.

Once unlocked, the door opens with a loud squeak, followed by a short moan (a protest for having succeeded with the lock). Shutting the door quietly is a virtual impossibility, while a door left ajar is a prime target for a thundering slam.

Once inside room 20, and upon inspection of the floor, one immediately notices 2 very suspicious yellow splotches. Ignore them; they'll be there 20 years hence. To the right are 3 doors, 2 of which open into a closet housing a clothes rack and hanger. The other boasts 2 drawers and a shelf. The drawers are where one hides the dishes from the restaurant. They are used for mid-day snacks; any empty dishes in the room will promptly be swiped by the maid and returned to the kitchen.

To the right is the bathroom, having the obligatory sink and toilet, as well as a showerhead. There is no shower curtain. The sink has been on the verge of a clog for 2 weeks, while the toilet insists upon running until extra attention is given to it. The shower remains a true experience which no coward would dare to operate. Mom has used it only once in the entire time we've been here, preferring the tried and true sponge bath method. The floor, which is of green marble, is quite interesting, as one is able to imagine pictures in it's design while contemplating upon the plastic toilet seat.

The main room is comfortably small (Dad's is uncomfortably small) and contains 2 single beds complete with iron-hard pillows, sheets, 1 gray blanket, and 1 two-tone brown blanket that Jon would surely approve of.

Bedside is a night stand supporting a dial-less telephone with a nerve-shattering ring. On the opposite wall stands a rickety desk, a luggage stand, and a chair. The third wall has 2 chairs and a set of double doors which open onto a small balcony. Outside shutters and faced drapes provide the necessary shelter and privacy.

The floors, tiled in green, have 2 rugs, 1 beside each bed. Both the former and the latter are typically dust ridden, despite the maid's honest attempt to maintain a degree of cleanliness; the hotel has no vacuum cleaner, and no plugs if it did.