System Breakdown

The Doctor Bails Out
In June, whilst waiting for the final resolution of the legal affairs, I paid my normal visit to Charing Cross for yet another implant. Much to my surprise, Dr Press wasn't there. Instead, I was introduced to another consultant, I forget his name. Once in the operating room, he admitted he had never carried out an implant. The scene became comical as I lay there issuing instructions on how to go about giving me an implant. Jokes flew as we got the job done.
Looking back, I should have realised Dr Press was becoming disenchanted with treating me. The previous implant had resulted in one of the pellets being pushed out through the incision. It had taken six weeks to work its way out. I began to understand I was becoming a nuisance to the hospital's employees.
Martin Webster
I guess I should have been aware how Webster was. He'd initially told us the case would last a year, costing $60,000 to get justice. By now, the bill was in excess of $450,000. This figure wouldn't have been so high, if Webster hadn't made a "career move" to Waterhouse, resulting in an increase in the initial hourly rate from $80.00 to $120.00. Now Waterhouse had merged with Field Fisher which had further increased the hourly rate to $170.00 per hour. Same person, suddenly worth three times as much. As our funds were running out and our ability to borrow any more gone, Waterhouse had agreed in 1988, to withhold further bills until after the case was settled. Field Fisher didn't like this so now put pressure on, for us to come up with more money. The true nature of the legal system began to materialise. They sought interest on outstanding money, which I had no alternative but to agree to. Webster and I went for a drink after that meeting. There I asked him if he had gone to Waterhouse, using us as bait to get his job. He admitted it, saying it was common practice amongst the legal profession. Two months after this meeting, Webster abruptly left Field Fisher Waterhouse.
Just Show Me the Money!
From the day Webster left us in the hands of Field Fisher Waterhouse, frustration mounted as my telephone calls and letters were ignored. Interest on our loans now exceeded $60,000 a year. By the end of the year, stress levels had increased to the point, where I began to fear for my health again. A winter break, skiing in the delightful resort of Les Contamines in the lee of Mont Blanc, helped no end. There, a rather large Czech lady told me one drunken night, "I want your body", which she didn't get. I related this to my skiing companion. Just after Christmas, I was resting in my room after a day on the slopes when I heard the chalet owner talking to some new arrivals. They went into a suite across the hall from me, where it was explained the Czech lady slept in the next room. Suddenly, a voice boomed out, "I want your body!" It was my skiing companion, drunk and loud, who's instantly reacted to the mention of the Czech lady. Despite this, the room was taken by the family.
Death in the Family
My Dad died early in January 1991, after a protracted battle against Cancer. For eighteen years he'd fought the inevitable, surviving two lung operations to remove tumours in the process. The bravery shown during the second World War, paled beside his herculean effort to survive this killer disease. Unusually, I'd called him the night he died. His last words to me stick with me. "Too much wind son, I've run out of puff." His lungs hemorrhaged that night.
I rushed to help my mother the next morning, when she tearfully broke the news of his death. It was an awful day, with funeral arrangements and telephone calls made with heavy hearts. At the end of it we decided rather than mourn his passing, we'd celebrate his life, because we felt he'd at last found relief from his suffering. the house became a happy place, noisy and full of laughter for the first time in many years. My mother, who'd suffered a stroke seven years previously, told me she would rest for a year, before moving to another part of England. I vowed to help her in any way possible.
The year had begun badly for me. It didn't stop. I made telephone calls and wrote letters to Field Fisher Waterhouse, asking when we were going to finalise the case. Webster should have booked a day in court to settle the amount of costs applicable to the cases. Without that, no money would be handed over, apart from the debt owing on the building work. As my calls and letters were ignored, so I began to realise we were being abandoned by our advocates. Disillusioned, my work suffered and I would disappear home half way through the working day to sit and bemoan the wait. I was in Limbo, motivation had ceased on all fronts. I began to wonder whether I would ever break free from my "prison". I was in a dangerous state of mind again. Only the summer, cricket and another trip to Los Angeles helped me through that year. The trip to LA was eventful and proved to change my life.