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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