The Perfect Hands Doctor

The doctor's office had a rectangular shape with three pale-yellow painted walls and a vibrant-burgundy one. By the door, to the left, was a computer sitting on a shelf, and next to it a counter with a tiny sink. The examination bed was against the corner, opposite to the door. There was only one painting, a colorful one, which had the big task of uplifting the visitors’ spirit while waiting for the doctor; in this case the visitors were Natacha, Valeria and I visiting Shriners Hospital for Children the first time in the cold month of March. The abstract painting, which resembled a puzzle with each piece of different color, was falling short in its purpose, but fortunately that changed when Dr. Dan A. Zlotolow, MD came in to the office.

Dr. Zlotolow  a hand surgeon of about 50 years old, with salt and pepper curly hair brought the energy the room was missing. His assistant, a tall man in his early thirties, joined him.

Dr. Zlotolow was eager to teach us as much as possible about Valeria’s case, for example he mentioned that in cases when a baby is born without thumbs, or mirror hands, he also has mirror forearms. That means that instead of having one radius and one ulna bone, he has the same bone duplicated. The elbow is not designed for that, so the baby has problems rotating the forearm. We turned to see Valeria, and she was throwing away big Lego pieces like a pitcher, so clearly her forearm bones were fine.

Then Dr. Alburger—the foot surgeon—entered the room; I felt honored to be in front of those two brilliant doctors, and seeing them discussing logistics like when the surgery could take place. Dr. Zlotolow said he could operate when Valeria turns a year and a half old. Dr. Alburger said he could operate right away.

"Are you saying you're so important you don't want to operate with me?" asked Dr. Zlotolow to Dr. Alburger who seemed not to enjoy the joke.

"That's what he meant right?" said Dr. Zlotolow talking to me.

"Yeah, that he meant." I responded, smiling.

Dr. Alburger left the room without smiling though, and I was just hoping I didn’t offend the man who was going to open the flesh of my precious daughter.

Dr. Zlotolow explained that waiting for the surgery was necessary because babies lack firm muscles in their hands when they’re less than 18 months old; their muscles are like spider webs, not strong enough for the stitches.

“Be patient,” said Dr. Zlotolow, "to operate her hands, I need you to give me a hand."

We smiled at this play of words; though Dr. Zlotolow s assistant didn't. I guessed he had heard the joke way too many times.

Dr. Alburger did his part in May with great results on Valeria’s feet—he was even smiley and supportive in the following visits. The postoperative period was extremely difficult though. In January is Dr. Zlotolow s turn to do his part; I know the postoperative period won’t be easy since Valeria uses her hands a lot, but having gone through the previous experience, we’re ready to stand up to anything.

Valeria taking Greta for a ride

African Spell

Natacha was with Valeria, playing at the Brooklyn Public Library's babies’ area; it was in plain winter before Valeria had feet surgery. Inside the building, which has an extremely tall entrance, inspired by ancient Egyptian architecture, a nanny approached her with strong interest; she was an older lady from Africa, who noticed Valeria's hands.

"Her feet, are they also like that?" asked the lady to Natacha enthusiastically.

"Yes, and she's having surgery very soon", responded Natacha.

"She doesn't need surgery; she's having surgery because you want to," said the lady in a firm tonality, turning upset.

"She's a blessed baby," added the lady. "In Africa, babies who are born with extra fingers are admired; they become great strong persons, destined to control their own future".

I found it extremely peculiar that somebody questioned whether Valeria really needed the surgeries. The lady’s beliefs went against the general common sense. It was a possibility that had never been brought up to the table.

Still, one has to be pragmatic, and ponder what’s best in the long run. In term of her feet; although Valeria was able to stand up with easiness; they were different from each other, and were going to cause her to walk unevenly, affecting her hip; one leg was going to put more pressure than the other. That might be fine for a short period of time, but after thirty years it'd definitely would have taken a toll on her.

In term of the hands, although she’s able to hold things without difficulty, she's going to have a wider range to grasp objects.

The conversation with that lady should have passed as unnoticed if it wasn't because Valeria had never gotten sick before the surgery. She was nine months old when she went into the operating room, and by then I had never seen her falling ill. I felt fortunate, especially because my first son, Gianluca, now fourteen years old, had fallen ill a few times by then, which was normal.

Two months after the surgery, Valeria has gotten the cold twice, and an ear infection once; in a way. I know she needs to get sick in order to get her immune system up to date to defend herself from the germs of the world, but I'm still somewhat amazed that she previously had never gotten sick. I hope that by removing what made her special I didn't remove any spell that gave any magical protection.

Happy father's day!

Natacha, Valeria, Greta and Gianluca. The joy of being a father.

A big hug to all the fathers on our day

Valeria's Progress

If part of my feet’s bones were cut off, I'd be crying to my mom that I'd never walk again, but Valeria, like most babies, is resilient, and completely unaware that she went through surgeries.

Her progress was moving quicker than I anticipated.

Since she accidentally removed the casts off her feet, only a week after the surgery, she's tried to stand up. Silly me, I didn't ask that Friday when we went to see the doctor whether we could allow Valeria to stand up if she tried, and I paid for that.

In my mind she was in pain, so she would never try it; in her mind she was finally free of those casts, so she would only crawl, jump, and walk. I emailed the doctor asking my concern, but it was the weekend, so he didn't reply until Monday.

Loly, my mother-in-law, Natacha and I ended up exhausted trying to hold her and distract her from wanting to lean on her feet. We listened constantly the Gummy Bear song and Mickey's Hot Dog song, let her play with all the cel phones and remote controls of the house, and took turns, carrying her back and forth in our small NY size apartment. Finally on Monday, Dr. Alburger responded, "it's ok for her to stand up; it's a good sign."

Since then, the floor has been her kingdom.

Three weeks later, we went back to Philly to Shriners Hospital for Children to remove the bandages and get the final discharge. Dr. Alburger showed up to his office with his assistant, and holding a brand new package with scissors and bandages in his hand. He sat in front of Valeria, who started crying, and began unrolling the bandages until the feet appeared in front of us.

They had the right amount of fingers, and almost had the right shape. They were still swollen, and, because of the bandages, the top parts were almost live skin. Dr. Alburger used the scissor to remove the stitches from each edge, but the rest of the stitches were inside Valeria’s skin; her body was going to absorb them. The shapes of the feet were 90% as expected, but the x-rays were 100% perfect.

Seeing the before-surgery and after-surgery x-rays was extremely comforting, and gave me a moment of peace. I told Natacha, “after all this, we need a good vacation.”

I now see Valeria’s feet, and I’m amazed by their new look; it’s gladly unexpected after being used to seeing the old foot, the mirror foot.

We prepared for months for this moment, and were joyful that we took the right action. We had been very patient though; especially when we wanted to do something since that moment in the ultrasound room, over a year ago, when Valeria was growing in Natacha’s womb, and the ultrasound technician was telling us that everything was normal with the baby. Suddenly she stopped smiling, printed some images, and left the room. She came back with a doctor, a matured woman, who sat in front of us, and told us, “your baby has an extra digit.”

Valeria's brand new feet work perfectly fine

The Sisters

Valeria and her furry sister 

Casts Slipped Off Valeria's Feet

“Gino, this is urgent; one of Valeria's casts slipped off,” said Natacha on the phone, reaching me at work at about 6 pm. “I’ve talked to the hospital, and they’re calling the doctor; just be prepared for anything,” she added.

I was afraid this would happen. Just 6 days prior, when Valeria was being discharged from the hospital, her surgeon, Dr. Alburger, had prevented us, “Casts sometimes come off, so try to keep Valeria’s feet up.”

Dr. Alburger and Valeria, the day after her surgery 

Another doctor from the hospital—Shriners Hospital for Children in Philadelphia—returned the call since Dr. Alburger was in surgery. He directed Natacha on how to put on a temporary bandage, and recommended we be at the hospital the day after.

Valeria wasn’t in pain, on the contrary; she was smiling like she hadn’t done it in days; she must have felt relieved without the cast.

When I got home from work at about midnight, Loly and Natacha were trying to distract Valeria, and preventing her from moving. I noticed the top of the other cast, which was still on, was by the ankle; that seemed odd; it originally was right below the knee. Valeria was anxious for someone to carry her, and Loly did; Valeria started swinging her legs, and that’s when I heard a big bang on the wooden floor. The other cast had slipped off too.

Seeing her foot was shocking; I couldn’t believe this was really happening; I felt like I was a spectator watching the scene from a movie. The cut from the surgery was from her ankle to her toe, and still healing; it was swollen, and bruised. This was the extremity treated of mirror foot; so basically, it was the foot that had been cut off in two to get rid of the mirrored half.

Valeria wasn’t in pain for this foot either, but Natacha started crying, and couldn’t bear to see the foot. I was breathing heavily. Fortunately, Loly was able to calm us down.

Moments later; once we were able to put ourselves together—Natacha gained her strength back, and was able to see the injury without feeling affected—we put a sock on the foot, taped it, and decided to leave to Philadelphia right away; that way we would stay in a hotel close to the hospital, and be at the door at 7:30 am when the hospital staff arrived.

I went for the rental car, came back for the family, and we all left Brooklyn at about 1 am. Valeria slept all the way to Philadelphia; on the way there, nobody said a single word; nobody put the radio; nobody asked to stop for a bathroom break; nobody wanted to wake up Valeria.

At about 3:30 am, we got to Philly. Valeria kept sleeping in the hotel and for the whole night; something she hadn’t done since before the surgery.

The morning after, arriving at the hospital was a relief, and being finally in front of Dr. Alburger even more. He examined Valeria’s feet, and said, “she’s healing well; there’s no sign of infection; I need to see her in two weeks to remove the stitches.” He didn’t put another cast on the feet, but covered them with bandages. When he called to make his voice report before leaving the office, he said, “Valeria Ginocchio, she had surgery 7 days ago; casts came off; she’s healing well; mom did a good job covering the feet.”

Finally at Shriner Hospital for Children waiting to see the doctor

We left the hospital, feeling much alleviated after a frantic night. We then went to Geno’s to eat their famous Philly Cheese Steaks. Sitting in the sun, Natacha, Loly and I were able to join Valeria in smiling.

Valeria's casts

Valeria the Champ

 

Valeria the Champ after conquering the surgery at Rocky Steps, Philadelphia

Valeria is out of surgery

It went well. She's awake, watching cartoons. Thanks to all for your concerns.

Help from Cuba

In early 2012, I called the United States Interest Section in Havana—AKA the consulate, but because of the embargo, it has a different name—to make an appointment for Loly, Natacha's mother who lives in Cuba, for a visa to the US. The soonest one available was for November 2016.

Loly wanted to be in New York when Valeria was born, but she had to miss it, and she wanted to help during Valeria's surgery, which Natacha and I really needed, but having the surgeries in Cuba proofed rather complicated.

In the meantime, we continued looking for the right doctor in the US, and found Shriners Hospital for Children in Philadelphia; they were amazing, and quick to set up a date for the surgery.

We mentioned to Loly that we were happy with the physicians we had found, and that the surgery was within a few weeks, that would be in May 2013. She mentioned that she had heard visas’ appointments had been sped up; we should try calling again the US Interest Section. And I did without any hope.

When I phoned, they asked me for Loly’s info, and then they said, “we have an opening for April 16th, 2013.”

I thought, “2013? That’s in how many years? Wait! That’s in two weeks!”

“Will you take it or not?” the operator at the Interest Section asked.

I was still in shock, so it took me a few seconds to react, but I said, “Yes, we take it”.

In less than fourteen days, Natacha and I had to gather the documents to proof that we could financially invite her, and Loly had to gather all the documents to proof that she had strong ties to go back Cuba. The main tie was that she’s the only taking care of Nancy, her 87 years-old mom.

On April 16th, only 35 people out of 700 got visas to the US; one of them was Loly.

She didn’t have a phone, but a relative of hers emailed me with the results after the appointment. I called Natacha, who was anxiously waiting for the news, on video chat. She started jumping with joy when she heard the news, and hung me up right away; “Bye”, she said, “I have to tell the family.”

After getting her visa, Loly went back to Bayamo, packed her things up, arranged who was going to take care of Nancy for the three months she was going to be away, and flew to Miami. All within three days.

She spent a short time there visiting her relatives, and finally made it to New York last night; Valeria was resistant to be carried by Loly for a while, but after a few grandmother tricks, Valeria ceded.

Natacha and I finally got the help from Cuba that we needed, and right on time. We’re ready to drive in a few hours to Philadelphia for the surgery of the mirror foot.

To Do List Before Heading to Philly

1- Pick up the car - check
2- Make hotel reservations - check
3- Make sure Valeria sits comfortably in her car seat - check
4- Picking up the mother-in-law at La Guardia Airport - Not check but almost

We're Having Surgery in May

The lobby at Shriners Hospital was quiet, and it was just Natacha, Valeria, and I waiting there in the chill month of March. On the wall, there was a long horizontal painting of joyful kids in crutches and wheel chairs arriving to the finish line helped by men wearing fez, the red mason hat, which looks like a bucket upside down; it might look a bit funny, but the task that the masonry do is extremely serious; it raises money for the Shriner’s Hospital for Children like this one in Philadelphia, which we were visiting for the first time.

Part of the painting in the lobby of Shriners Hospital for Children in Philadelphia

After filling out forms, we went to the doctors waiting area. We sat in front of a teenage girl, who had prosthetic legs. She was missing her left forearm, and her right arm was almost complete, except that she only had two fingers in her hand. All this didn’t stop her from texting on her cel phone super fast.  When she and her mother stood up to leave; the elevator door, which was about twenty feet away, opened, and the girl ran to hold it for her mom, “Come’on mom!” she said. I was so glad to see that she was just a typical hyperactive teenager.

A few minutes later we were called into the doctor’s office. There was a patient’s bed cover with paper, which Valeria prompted to rip apart; I threw away the mess before the doctor came in, rolled over more paper on the bed, but hurricane Valeria was quick to rip everything apart again, and that was when Dr. Alburger, the foot surgeon, came in. In his early sixties, with silver hair, and a gentle voice, Dr. Alburger didn’t mind the mess. “She’s very strong; she kicks hard”, he said, examining her legs. “Do you have the X-Rays?” he asked. I gave him the CD, which his assistant took away to open up. I also gave him the X-Rays plaques we had brought from Cuba, old school, but effective; he put it against the light box, and saw what Valeria had.

He mentioned the mirror foot, how he was going to operate, and then he added, “On the right foot, I’ll do the surgery on the inside part, so the scar is not visible.” That comment was unexpected because I was more concern on the functionality of the foot, rather than the esthetics, but he was concerned about all the angles, which hinted we were in good hands.

“We can go into surgery anytime; talk to my assistant to set up a day.” He said.

“But we thought we had to wait until she’s a year old.” I mentioned.

“We can do it anytime.” He responded.

After he left, his assistant told us May was opened. She also said, “the surgery will take from 3 to 4 hours. She will stay over night with one of the parents, and will have a cast for 3 or 4 weeks.”

We were happy after meeting Dr. Alburger, and astonished to have the surgery soon. Shriners Hospital had been great, and we still had to meet the hand surgeon.

Valeria is unaware of the harm she has caused to the extraordinary people of Shriners Hospital for Children

Valeria Ripping Apart Shriners Hospital of Philadelphia

Natacha watches Valeria rip Shiners Hospital of Philadelphia apart; don't tell the doctors

We've Found the Right Children Hospital

The first time we heard the term “mirror foot” came from Dr. Miki of the Miami Children Hospital. He also told Natacha and I that he could operate the hands and create the thumbs—which made us extremely happy since we didn't know it could be done—but would have to find a foot surgeon in Miami, who specialized in what we needed. We told him about our wish of having Valeria’s surgery in that city, where we have family, but he made a comment that completely changed the course of our search, “if Valeria were my daughter, I’d take her to Shriners,” he said.

Shiners Hospital for Children is one of the top health care centers in the world, specializing in orthopedics, burn care, cleft lip and palate, and spinal cord injury. They also stand out for their warm hospitality; they showcase that on their website, and after meeting them, we concur with it.

But before knowing them, and right after seeing Dr. Miki, we first focused on researching about “mirror foot” and Shriners Hospital.

On “mirror foot,” we found out how rare the case was; it’s usually associated with different syndromes; fortunately Valeria, who has gone through detailed genealogical tests at the New York Presbyterian Hospital, has shown no positive signs of syndromes at all.

We found also different articles about some successfully treated cases, and one of them called our attention; it was about Hidehiko Kawabata, M.D. Vice President, of the Japanese Society for Surgery of the Hand. We contacted him with a long email, explaining our case as best as possible; he responded with a short and concise line, “I recommend Dr. Scott of Shriners Hospital in Philadelphia.”

From Dr. Kawabata’s email along with Dr. Miki’s strong advice and some research of ours, we realized how important Shriners Hospital was. Now, we had to contact them, and really hope they would take our case.

And they did it.

Valeria and Natacha at the Shriners Hospital for Children in Philadelphia

We're finally out to enjoy Brooklyn

Valeria and Natacha enjoying the spring in Brooklyn, New York

When spring lasts all year long

My everyday walk to the C train in Brooklyn had a pleasant twist this morning; spring had finally arrived. The seeming never ending months when I had to dress like an astronaut to go out were now behind; months in which I thought about moving to an all year long warm place like Cuba, and appreciate the unfamiliar past experiences like the lack of privacy.

When I was in Bayamo for the first time, we went to the Céspedes Hospital to run some tests with Natacha, who was expecting Valeria. Waiting in the lobby, right outside the doctor’s office, I noticed that the X ray box light was on a wall; and then, every so often doctors came out of their offices to see the X rays with their patients, and discuss them in front of the passer byers.

“Do you want to see the intensive care unit?” Loly, my mother-in-law asked me.

“Yes,” I answered amazed that we could visit that unit freely.

There were no door or security personnel restricting us from accessing to the long rectangular room that was the intensive care unit. There were about a dozen beds on either side, and while some patients were sleeping, others were talking to their visitors. It was pretty vivid for a unit where I always assumed patients had to enjoy calmness.

A moment later, we were called in to see the doctor, but not by ourselves, with a woman in her mid-thirties and her mom. I thought they had to tell something quick to the doctor, and leave, but they sat next to Natacha and I.

Without acknowledging us, the doctor brought up the results of whatever test the woman had, and told her, “The results came out alright; your pain is nothing; you’re fine.” “But doctor, my dad suffered back pain all his life; I’m concerned I’m suffering of the same problem,” she responded. The doctor assured her that she was fine, and when finally convinced, she got from her purse a plastic bag with a homemade juice and sandwich. “Here’s a little detail for you, doctor,” she said. “Oh, no, you shouldn’t have,” he responded. That offering and refusal game was going on back and forth for a bit; “fine, if nobody wants it, I’ll take it,” I thought.

After the doctor finally accepted the gift, the woman and her mom left; that was a relief because I was worried about having some tests with some strangers witnessing that.

There was also an experience that I found remarkable. Rather than sending texts, and finding out what everybody is doing on Facebook, people connected in person. Doors of houses tend to be open for the most part of the day; letting the air circulate has to do with that, but that makes friends who are just passing by, stop for a quick cafecito or cup of coffee, and enjoy a little chat. Different neighbors came to watch the Brazilian soap operas on different nights, providing a variety of topics for conversation.

With spring here, I love New York again, and I’m happy with the privacy that the health system provides, but I miss the in-person connection, something that with a warm weather, I can begin experiencing more often.

Natacha and Loly at the ultrasound test in Bayamo, Cuba

A Happy Baby

Valeria is happy with her milk

Getting a Doctor in Cuba

We’ve decided to pass on Dr. Salles excellent option. By continuing our search, an even better opportunity has presented before us in Philadelphia. Getting a doctor in Cuba was a great learning experience, and there are a couple of recommendations that I’d give to anyone asking about this path:

1- Be ready to obey the system
On our second day in La Havana, a nurse knocked at our door. “Are Natacha, Valeria, and Gino Ginocchio here?” She asked in a commanding voice. She asked to see our passports, and when we had arrived and when we were planning to leave. After taking notes, she gave us two pieces of paper. “You must go tomorrow to the polyclinic to get tested”, she said. “Why?” We asked. “To ensure you’re ok; the baby doesn’t have to go.” We were concerned with the test, but we had to go otherwise they’d come back for us or wouldn’t let us leave the country.

The morning after we were at the polyclinic at 7 a.m., waiting in line at the blood test laboratory with about 20 people from Cuba. On the wall, there was a sign promoting healthy eating with images of vegetables. Suddenly an older person in line commented, “Look, they tell us to eat those vegetables, but where do we get them? I can’t find vegetables anywhere.” Another old man agreed with him, saying, “Yeah, all I see available in the street are peanuts; I don’t know where they get all those peanuts from; everybody is just selling peanuts; my neighbor got a job offer in the hospital, but she preferred selling peanuts; she makes much more money like that”.

After an hour, we were called in into a narrow room; the assistant pinched us in the finger with freshly unwrapped tiny metal blades, and got drops of blood on little flat glasses. I asked, “What is this test for?” “Malaria”, she answered, “we have reports it’s spreading in Africa.” Then she added, “if the test is positive, we’ll go to your house tomorrow; if it’s negative, this is it.”

We never heard from them again.   

2- Consider the weather

La Havana is extremely humid, and air conditioning is not available everywhere. Having a cast on with a 90 degrees weather and high humidity could require a lot of sacrifice. I’ve been twice to La Havana; the first time was in April, and I had to sleep with a fan blowing air all night. The second time was in January, and the weather was pleasant with a cooling breeze at night; it’s not the best to lie on a beach chair, but it’s convenient to lie on a hospital bed.

3- Do extensive research.

Dr. Salles came strongly recommended, and even though Internet is limited in Cuba, there’s information I was able to find out about him. Dr. Salles has published a study on the benefits of pyramidal energy; the study was done to a group of 251 people, and the results were positive. He also has published a study on a patient, who grew only one bone in the forearm rather than two, and the successful treatment he followed. I admit that out of both articles, the latter had more impact on me.

I hope these tips help someone interested in getting a doctor in Cuba; we could have treated Valeria's mirror foot in the Frank País Hospital there; it was a golden opportunity. But when looking for a doctor, you have to look for diamonds, and diamonds are not up for grabs on the surface, you have to dig dip to find them.

Valeria, Natacha and I at the Frank País Hospital in La Havana, Cuba

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The Grandparents Travel to Varadero

Mati had been sick in bed for two months caused by a sciatic nerve pain; Yuclemen had had his intestinal flora ruined for years, prompting constant diarrheas, so it was sheer luck that both of them, my parents, happened to be in a rare period of good health when Valeria, Natacha, and I were getting ready to go to Cuba from New York. Mati and Yuclemen then, without any delay, made last minute reservations, got on a plane, and traveled from Peru to Cuba to meet Valeria, their granddaughter.

It took a lot of courage from both of them, whose health had been fragile, to make this trip, but they brought joy to us, and something unexpected, support to Valeria’s treatment.

My parents are about 70-years-old, and they had already gone through a big disappointment, wanting to travel when Valeria was born. They had been prepared for months to come to New York, but when the date approached, mom fell sick. Sadly, they had to cancel everything.

Months went by, and they didn’t know when they were going to meet their granddaughter; she wasn’t going to go Peru for the moment; her surgeries were the priority, but fortunately, close to the days we were traveling, sicknesses gave my parents a break, so they took the risk, and got on a plane.

After many hours of flying, a lay over in El Salvador, and a long drive from La Havana to Varadero, they finally met Valeria. Mom couldn’t let go of her granddaughter even though she had some muscle pain; and dad, whom I’ve always seen as a strict, tough person, was carrying and kissing Valeria. They didn’t get sick during the trip, on the contrary, they felt rejuvenated, doing a lot of activities by themselves, like touring in the hop-on hop-off buses, having exotic drinks at their hotel, and going to see the Tropicana show in La Havana days later.

They did what one has to do at an age when health becomes more unpredictable. They enjoyed the present; their health gave them an opportunity, and they took full advantage of it.

On our last day together in Varadero, they came up with a surprise; since they knew that the costs to treat Valeria’s mirror foot in Cuba were higher than expected, they offered their support. By telling us that they'd cover some part of the first surgery, they filled us up with joy and hope; they opened a slight opportunity to have a great surgeon in Cuba, and to have the help of Loly, the other grandmother.

Valeria's grandparents had traveled to Varadero, risking their health, to meet her, also to show that they were there for us. Valeria is fortunate to have such amazing grandparents, just as I'm fortunate to have such amazing parents.

Mati, Yuclemen, Valeria, and Natacha in Varadero

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Another Hospital in Cuba

“What’s her name?” asked the doctor.

“Valeria Ginocchio,” said Natacha.

“With that last name, they’ll know she’s not from here; what’s your last name?”

“Pérez,” responded Natacha.

“Ok, Valeria Pérez then; here’s the form, now go take the X-Rays,” said the Doctor, who wanted to make Valeria pass as a Cuban patient, and treat her for free at the Carlos M. de Céspedes Hospital, in Bayamo.

The Céspedes Hospital is on the east side of the island, and treats most of common diseases, but needs support for complicated cases. It’s located in Bayamo, Natacha and Loly’s hometown, famous for a historical event during the revolutionary war against Spain; in 1869, the residents of Bayamo preferred to set the town on fire rather than let it fall in the hands of the Spaniards.

Over a hundred years later, Bayamo stands out for it’s hospitality. Natacha and Valeria were there, visiting, when neighbors and relatives recommended going to the Céspedes Hospital; they knew the doctors, who could pretend Valeria was Cuban. Checking another hospital in Cuba was convenient because Loly could help with the post surgery treatment.

The doctors accepted the case, but in order to determine if they could treat Valeria's mirror foot, they needed the X-Rays to discuss at the once-a-week board meeting.

In the meantime, Natacha was getting ready to get back to the United States, so with the help of Loly, they organized a good-bye party for Valeria with the kids of the neighborhood.

They needed a cake, but there was a ban on eggs due to some Cholera cases that had affected the other side of the island; it was minimum, and dwindling, but the government took no chances, and forbade the use of eggs or any sub products.

Still, Natacha went to the town baker—who had her own chicken and healthy eggs—to order a cake; the baker refused, arguing that she could have a bad time if authorities found out. Fortunately, one of Loly’s neighbors was the santera of the area, so she personally went and told the baker to prepare the cake, who had no option but to accept.

“If the police see you with the cake, do not mention my name,” warned the baker to Natacha when she went to pick up the cake.

The party was a success with more than 20 kids eating the disease free cake, and running after the balloons, which were luxury; balloons are pricy, so parties rarely have them.

The day after, Natacha went to the Céspedes Hospital for the results of the board meeting; they concluded that they lacked the capabilities to operate.

The Céspedes Hospital’s doctors felt bad that they couldn’t help, and offered to remove the extra little finger, hanging from Valeria’s left hand. Natacha would have accepted, but she and Valeria were returning to the U.S. sooner than the period to remove the stitches. Valeria couldn’t get treated at this other hospital in Cuba, but we’ll keep this place in our heart. 

Valeria's good-bye party in Bayamo, Cuba

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A Hospital with Pulse

The air in the living room was heavy; the recent call with Dr. Salles about the surgery’s cost had blown up the balloons of hope to treat Valeria in Cuba. Natacha and I talked whether it still made sense to accept Dr. Salles’ invitation to visit the hospital where the surgery would take place, and since we were in the country already, we decided to go after all to The Frank País Orthopedic Hospital. 

The Frank País is on the east side of La Havana, and is made up of a series of three story high buildings; it’s over 40 years old, and while most of its patients are Cubans, it has a dedicated office for foreigners too, Health Tourism.

Because we were going to the Health Tourism office, we were spared of the burden to make an appointment like most people in the island do. Usually sick people, or relatives on their behalf, have to go before dawn to the hospital to wait in line, and get a ticket that would ensure an appointment on that day; then they have to wait for hours until doctors finally receive them.

We were fortunate to already have an appointment for 9 am. with Dr. Salles, who was busy when we arrived, so we had to wait outside his office. While waiting, an administrative worker, who was passing by, stopped to complement Valeria for a couple of minutes. A moment later, an old nurse, with a serious look, approached us slowly. She didn’t say a word; she just grabbed Valeria in her arms, hugged her, and smiled with her eyes closed; her looks went from toughness to sweetness. By that moment, I was starting to get an unexpected feeling of a hospital that cared; a feeling I was unfamiliar with. Those kind of kind encounters continued during the day; when we visited the financial assistant, she stepped out of her desk, carried Valeria, and sat with us on a couch; she continued talking to us while playing with her. 

When we finally made it into Dr. Salles room, he was cold and straightforward, and that was great; all I wanted from him was to be the scientist who concentrated on muscle, nerves, and metatarsus, but it was comforting to feel from the rest of the hospital staff the human touch; the Frank País had almost made us forget why we were there.

The warmness of the hospital became more important than the lack of covers on electricity sockets or that doctors didn’t hang medical school diplomas on their walls. The Frank País was an excellent option to operate Valeria if only the circumstances allowed it. Weeks after visiting the hospital, I frequently remember the big quote chiseled in marble in the lobby, “Making a handicapped child walk is the most noble humane deed that one can conceive of.”

At the Frank País Hospital in La Havana with Dr. Salles

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