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

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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