In the final part of our summer Troy Destan’s father arrived in Datca, but before he could show off his swimming skills he peaked a fever of 103F and we rushed to the hospital in Marmaris and admitted him with bronchitis/pneumonia. The background story to getting sick? Perhaps not fully recovery from chicken pox. Perhaps pseudonomas bacteria creeping up to his lungs. Perhaps Daddy carrying the swine flu from the plane. Perhaps, in our enthusiasm that Daddy had arrived and a misguided attempt to clear his sinuses, dipping him in the water to many times, which may have contributed to his acquiring a bacteria from the water and getting sick. Definitely dehydration. So after one miserable night of watching him shiver and in fever, we ended up in a room at the hospital.Our little guy slept and slept and we watched TV and were grateful he was going to get better. We just imagined we were on a cruise sitting in our cabin, and that helped time go away. Plus the hospital was in the tourist district and nightclubs were playing music till 2am. So time passed and before we knew it we were back in Datca.
In Datca we celebrated Troy’s recovery with a dinner on the iskele. Joi
ning us were both sets of grandparents, both greatgrandmothers, great-aunts. The sunset was beautiful and we took lots of pictures. For the rest of our stay Troy did not go back in the water, and he didn’t show much interest anyway. He was perfectly happy riding his tricycle, playing in the park, going boating.
The list of relatives who arrived in Datca got longer and longer. His great grandmother’s brother came, his Babaanne’s sisters came. Two cousins, Isil from Daddy’s side and Cana from Mommy’s side came. It was the most crowded we’dever been in Datca!
Getting in the taxi cab to leave we were surrounded by family. It was a happy moment in an otherwise heartfelt goodbye.
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