transferred out of Bekir Ağa and sent to Haydarpaşa Hospital.
After a few days, he revived but again fell into depression
and renewed thoughts of suicide.//
Haydarpaşa Hospital, on the Anatolian side of Istanbul, near
Kadıköy.
Salim (prison warden) didn't believe I had fainted and had them stand
me up. But, of course, I slumped to the ground. The tyrant Salim,
thinking I was faking, had me poked with a knife in 19 places on my
body. Finally, seeing that I wasn't moving, he had me sent in a car to
Haydarpaşa Hospital, accompanied by Kanun İsmail. The doctor on
duty put me in the 'zero' section of the hospital (morgue), where the
dead are brought, examined and cleaned, because I was essentially
lifeless.
I remained in 'zero' for three days, during the first two of which I was
unconscious. On the third day, a curious doctor examined me and
determined that there was some hope that I would live. He had me
placed in a section of the hospital for patients with nervous diseases
but there were only two other prisoners there besides me. At around
noon I came to and sat up in my bed. I looked around and saw that
I was surrounded by beds.
I thought to myself, am I dreaming? Why am I here? I'm not sick! I
called to a soldier on duty and asked him why I was there. In an
Anatolian Turkish accent he replied "you were sick to your stomach.
That's why you came." I was bewildered because when my friends
were beaten and wounded in their heads and feet they got no treatment
from any doctor. The sick were left to die without care.
Bekir Ağa Prison was in Fatih, on the European side of
Istanbul, and Haydarpaşa Hospital was near Kadıköy on the
Anatolian (Asian) side.
As I sat there in a daze, another prisoner gave me a small mirror and I
saw where my neck had been cut by the rope. I then realized that I had
indeed done what I had decided to do, but had been saved somehow. In
any event, they sent word to the head doctor about my situation and he
rushed to see me like an excited child. He inquired about my health and
whether I was hungry, promising to have whatever I wanted brought to
me.
The head doctor wrote a prescription for medicine. I told him my legs
hurt from the knife wounds inflicted on me so he had a specialist in
external illnesses look at my legs, on which there were, in fact, 19 knife
wounds. The specialist put medicine on the wounds, bandaged them
and sent me to a hospital ward, where I had a meal for the first time in
3 days and I ate every last crumb.
The next day my family came to see me. They had been coming for a
couple of days but had been unable to get any confirmation that I was
still alive, so they were quite worried. They were sorry to see me in a
hospital gown but, on the other hand, relieved to know that I was living.
My poor son Nezhet was put off by the gown so he wouldn't come near
me, kiss me or even acknowledge me. Actually, the gown and hat they
give to patients make one look quite odd.
Nevertheless, at least I was out of Bekir Ağa Prison. And although there
were guards at the doors, there was no difficulty reading newspapers and
I was able to get any reading material that I wanted. But my nerves were
frayed and I fell into depression, thinking that my fate was to be treated
unjustly. Five or six days after coming to the hospital I saw a copy of
'Sabah' newspaper, where it was written that "individuals named Münir,
Enver, Talat and Sırrı had been imprisoned." The fact that only our four
names were mentioned, out of 60 prisoners, only made me feel worse.
Once again, I began to think about suicide. I couldn't obtain a gun so
how would I do it? The ward I was in was quite big so I built up a head
of steam and ran into a marble wall, hoping to splatter my brains. But
other than bruising my head, I was none the worse for wear. They told
the head doctor about my actions and he came to comfort and advise me,
offering to get me whatever I wanted to eat. He then ordered the medics
to remove the hand towels hanging on my bedstead and to unwrap and
replace my cloth bandages with plaster ones.
//END of PART XII//
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