Zeynep Kamil

Yesterday, I walked by the Child Emergency entrance of Zeynep Kamil hospital where I stayed for 15 days when I was 5 years old for meningitis treatment. I was actually out from a friend's house to look for a fine butcher where I can find some good quality minced meat when I bumped into this sign showing where the Child Department of the hospital was. I followed the direction down the slope, passed two amazing historical buildings (with beautiful domes and decoration) hidden between the adjascent pink and ugly modern structures and the entrance was just there. It was part of those dark pink buildings. I tried to remember whether it was pink back then and decided that it might have actually been light blue. Maybe inside the hospital was blue, I can't really remember.
Anyway, it was such a strange feeling being in front of that door. All I remember about the day I was brought there was that I was laying on my uncle's lap almost unconscious in the car on the way from Izmit to the hospital (or I was on my father's lap and my uncle was driving) and they put me on a stretcher when I got off and took me in for tests and stuff. The last thing I remember was I was too scared because mom was not coming with me.
The following days, I remember being in this very cold, big and empty room (probably in light blue color) and a nurse shaving part of my head to open a space for serum injection. My hair was very precious for me and I was very upset about that, I remember that for sure.
But what I dominantly felt about the hospital was not sadness at all. I remembered how the doctors were so nice and caring and what I deeply felt was gratitude to these people for curing me. It is such a pity that I don't remember anything at all about them except for their white coats.
I better write a thank you letter to the hospital very soon.