by Diane Baumer
After an hour-long sleeplessness, he tuned in to Radio Classics in the hope that music would help him sleep. Bartók’s Concert for piano and orchestra No. 1 was playing, though this piece could not be exactly regarded as relaxing. Doctor Ledesma hesitated between leaving it on or switching to a different station. He liked that concert. It was easy to recognize the version. Barenboim plays and Boulez conducts. Well, I’ll just listen to this movement.
His radio played on until the wee hours. Another sleepless night. What a mess!
Early in the morning, he limped into the children’s ward. His whole body hurt. Álvaro Ledesma was shattered. As he walked past the coffee machine, he did not even realize that Lola Soriano, his occasional lover, was trying to offer him some coffee.
“Álvaro... Álvaro! I just asked if you want a cup of coffee.”
“I already ate breakfast. Thank you anyway.”
“You look pale. How much sleep did you get in the past week? Bodies have their bounds.”
“Well… See you later.”
Doctor Ledesma walked by as he shrugged his shoulders. He already had too much on his to-do list, so he really had no time to make excuses regarding how he was feeling. Sizeable yawning momentarily distracted him from his thoughts.
No. I’d better freshen up my face and drink some coffee. I am bushed.
The parents of the Ethiopian kid whose hands he was transplanting were waiting anxiously in the room. Doctor Ledesma tried to dispel the fears of Aster, the kid’s mother.
“What you are experiencing right now is perfectly normal. All parents, absolutely no exceptions, have last-minute doubts. We can give you a tranquilizer to assist in making your wait easier. This is going to take some time.”
“I was sure until yesterday, but last night I had a pretty awful nightmare in which my son didn’t survive his surgery.”
The father wrapped his arm around her wife’s forearm, trying to comfort her.
“Aster, he is a great surgeon. Gebre has been very lucky. Think of all those poor mutilated children with no access to healthcare.”
Álvaro Ledesma made a harsh comment, yet essential in his view.
“You shouldn’t be sentencing your son in order to keep yourself from suffering. Don’t think about yourself, but about what is best for him. Gebre just wants to be a kid, so he totally deserves to fight for it.”
The mother nodded in embarrassment.
“I am sorry. I truly appreciate the interest you have taken in my son, doctor. God bless you. My child is a survivor – he will get ahead once again.”
In the operating room, Gebre watched everything with a voracious curiosity. The smiling nurse sweetly asked if he was scared. The kid feigned bravery, trying to reassure her.
“I’m not afraid, at all – I just turned five, so those hands are going to be my birthday gift.”
His story was among those of many children in Africa – just terrible. In his case, he had had his hands amputated by some guerrilla forces when he was just nine months old. This sort of acts were conducted to make sure kids would not become shooters as they grew up. Many perished as a result of infections. Gebre had stayed alive miraculously. His mother would always tell him he was a survivor, so he would see his disability as a sign of strength. His sister Nigat, despite her young age –being only three years old when tragedy happened–, had decided to share her own hands with him. “They are for both,” the little girl had said. Ever since, she had tried not to be too far from him, just in case he needed her hands. One afternoon, they were all visiting a nearby town. On their way back, they caught sight of plumes of fire and smoke emerging from the houses. Those days, Ethiopia was being ravaged by massacres. The hordes of the Angel of Death took advantage of the darkness to spread death sneakily. They could hear terrifying screams, thrown like sharp edges at the unreason of an unconscious world. A devastating deathly silence had followed. Once again, injustice had won the battle. The four fled across the field while, behind them, the flames devoured the roots which had kept them anchored to the land. From that moment on, they would be storm-torn branches which the wind might want to drag in any direction.
Three million eight hundred thousand steps later, they arrived in Chad. Nigat was sleeping peacefully in his father’s arms. She would never wake up again. They buried her under a mango tree, so the honeyed little girl would have a sweet eternity, as they kept walking, unaware that they were searching for a utopia.
“Gebre, my little survivor – the only one.”
In the operating room, the kid welcomed Doctor Ledesma with a broad smile.
“Doctor, don’t worry about me or be nervous – I’m not afraid.”
“The first time I saw you I realized right away you were a brave one. Now, we will put you to sleep and when you wake up...”
Doctor Ledesma moved his fingers in the air.
“So, can I see how you put my hands on me?” the child asked.
Gebre was disappointed when the doctor shook his head. The nurse tried to cheer him up.
“No, but you’ll be able to draw a nice picture once you have them on.”
He nodded smilingly.
“Also, you’ll teach me how to write your name.”
Doctor Ledesma gave the kid a wink. Gebre tried to mimic him, with not much success. Both eyes closed at the same time. The anesthetist injected him with the dose, and the kid fell asleep with a smile on his face.
It took five hours to transplant his left hand. Doctor Ledesma was suddenly overcome by fatigue. His colleague advised him to eat something before proceeding to the next hand.
“You don’t look good. You’re not about to pass out, are you?”
“No, not at all. I’m fine. Let’s keep going.”
“At least a chocolate shake. Drinking one won’t take you over a minute.”
Doctor Ledesma refused, so they resumed the procedure.
“Let’s go for that drawing, Gebre,” he said, as though the child could hear him.
Everything seemed to be going smoothly when, suddenly, the child’s heartbeat stopped. They desperately tried to revive him. However, the boy did not respond.
“Once again! Let’s try this one more time!”
“Again!”
“Gebre, you’re a survivor, can you hear me? You need to live. Your parents are waiting for you outside.”
They persevered for almost an hour. Doctor Ledesma was reluctant to give up. His colleagues had no choice but to force him out of the operating table.
“Álvaro, he is dead. We did everything we could.”
Doctor Ledesma took off his mask and gloves as he kept cursing himself.
He refused to be accompanied by anyone to notify Gebre’s parents of his death.
When Álvaro Ledesma left the room, he was seriously hurt. The downhearted surgeon walked at the exhausted pace of a dying elephant heading toward the cemetery.
Gebre’s parents, influenced by Doctor Garrido, another orthopedic surgeon at the hospital, filed a complaint against Doctor Ledesma for not informing them of their child’s serious heart disease prior to proceeding with the operation. They were seeking for compensation for themselves, as well as jail and disbarment for the doctor.
I didn’t see any of that in the report... I checked it... I think so... Or probably I didn’t? I’ve been so overworked lately... I should have slowed down. Everyone warned me. Anyway, regarding what Garrido says about me… I didn’t deliberately hide the test because of my boundless ego... What sort of devious creature could do something like that? I certainly couldn’t. Anyway, Garrido’s hostility toward me is another matter. I might have made a mistake, but in the first report the anesthetist also claims that everything was fine. What the hell happened? Certainly, I didn’t manipulate the results. Endangering a child’s life out of narcissism? Is he out of his mind?
Th
e hospital placed Doctor Ledesma on administrative leave in order to keep him away, awaiting on-trial clarification on what had happened. The accumulation of fatigue, nervousness, guilt, and disrepute sent the surgeon into a collapsing condition. He would spend his days lying in bed in silent darkness, not really caring whether his apathy would eventually erode what was left of him. He would turn down any activity which could potentially make him feel alive. No music or paragliding. The mere idea of being distracted to find comfort seemed to him a desecration of the child’s memory.
Lina got a big surprise when she met her new doctor the day of her follow-up appointment.
Manolo Garrido spoke of Doctor Ledesma in profound contempt.
“Only someone as bold and vain as that man could have assured that you would play the piano again.”
“Where is he, anyway? Why isn’t he my doctor anymore? What's going on?”
“I cannot tell you.”
“Will he return to operate on my hands?”
Doctor Garrido shrugged his shoulders disdainfully.
“Please don’t look at me in horror, ma'am. You may have been lucky – I’m going to save you another surgery. The only thing that will help you is rehabilitation. If you are lucky enough, you will be performing everyday tasks in due course.”
“What about playing the piano?”
“I am afraid that won’t be possible. I am sorry to be so straightforward, but it is definitely not like me to swindle or deceive my patients.”
“Doctor Ledesma never tried to mislead me. He just said we could try.”
Doctor Garrido nodded, pressing his lips together in disapproval. For many years, he had claimed that his colleague was a potential threat – according to Doctor Garrido, Doctor Ledesma liked to use his patients as guinea pigs and fully lacked principles. Unfortunately, time seemed to have proven him right.
“He tried to reach glory at the expense of other people’s lives. Do you think that is ethical? Someday you will thank me for saving you time and further suffering.”
In the car, Belén told her about Álvaro’s absence, which apparently had become the talk in the waiting room at the hospital.
“I get outraged about people being ruined by rumor. Were they in the operating room? Are they doctors? I have asked for his phone number at the reception, but they aren’t allowed to provide anyone with this information. I’ll get it whatever it takes, and then we’ll call him.”
“Count me out. He should have called me out of professional ethics. Doctor Garrido presumes there’s nothing to be done in my case. He’s not even going to try. Do you understand what that means? That means my playing the piano is over, Belén. It’s hard to believe I will never play again. Now I realize how wrong I was when I wanted to give up. Music has given me everything. I have been ungrateful.”
“We’ll ask for a second opinion.”
“Doctor Garrido showed me my medical record. Doctor Ledesma consulted the world’s best doctors and everyone replied that my case was unsolvable. I’m all out of ideas... After all, he may well have been blinded by ambition.”
That same night, as they were both ready for dinner, the phone rang. It was Doctor Ledesma. Lina angrily pouted at Belén for having contacted him, yet she gestured that she had not said anything.
“I promise,” Belén whispered in her friend’s ear as she left the speaker on.
The physicist got out of the room to allow Lina to talk in private. The doctor’s voice sounded hesitant – it did not have its usual overwhelming strength.
“I’m sorry I didn’t contact you before. I’ve been overtaken by the recent events. I didn’t forget about you. It’s just... Well, there have been better times in my life.”
He had to pause. Lina understood that her doctor not calling her before had nothing to do with disinterest – his heart was just too broken.
“Álvaro... I thank you for your concern. I appreciate your call so much.”
“Don’t thank me. It’s my job. How was your appointment with Doctor Garrido?”
“He was completely out of line. That man seemed to enjoy telling me I’d never play again just because he disagrees with you. Also, he told me he won’t operate on my hands to save me suffering and time.”
Doctor Ledesma seethed with anger.
“Well, I actually share his opinion – you’re better off away from a coarse person. He is saving you from his own clumsy hands.”
“I wanted to ask you something, and I would like you to be completely honest – did you really think I would stand a chance of recovery? He showed me the medical record containing the other experts’ opinions, and…”
“So despicable… He throws away his patients’ hopes to be on the safe side in case he might make a mistake in the future. I always told you what I thought. Few chances if we tried, none at all if we didn’t. Look, Lina – I’ve been thinking through your case. There is a reconstructive surgeon at Pamplona’s hospital I keep an excellent rapport with. He is a great orthopedist as well as a great person. I talked to him, and he is willing to take on the procedure. It would almost be as if I performed the surgery myself.”
“What about yourself? Isn’t there a way for you to operate on my hands? If necessary, I’ll give my signed consent.”
“Don’t ask me for that, I beg you. My current mental condition is not ideal for this. Not for anything in the world would I put your healing at risk. In addition, I was forced to stay away from the hospital.”
“At least you’ll be there, won’t you?”
Doctor Ledesma did not answer immediately. He did not feel he was brave enough to return to an operating room. However, if he had persuaded the pianist to fight, now he should be there for her.
Lina thanked him from the bottom of her heart.
“If everything turns out right, I will tell the whole world about the miracle you’ll have performed.”
“No – I’d prefer it if my colleague took all the credit for it. I just drowned in so much credit. I’ll get everything ready so you can play again. I care about you as a human being, Lina. You and your music, in this order.”
She sensed a fleeting yet delightful shudder on her lower abdomen. As usual, Belén had been right. Álvaro Ledesma was an honest person. Now, she was completely sure.
“I won’t ask you about what happened to the child – I just wanted to let you know that I don’t want this tragedy to devastate you. Think of the people you can still help. If you don’t do it for you, you will have to do it for them.”
“His name was Gebre. It means ‘gift.’ Seeing him smile actually felt like getting a gift. He walked across an entire continent to flee death, yet he breathed his last breath in Europe, once he thought he was safe. His hands were supposed to be his birthday present. His face full of hope remains stuck in my head night and day. I’m not sure if I’ll ever be a doctor again,” he said, his voice cracking with anxiety.
Doctor Ledesma was not able to hold it back anymore.
“I’ll call you again. Forgive me. Now I just can’t...”
31. The little girl
Brother Lucas was pruning an almond tree when the thundering descent of the Sun King proclaimed its leave for the day. For the Mexican, it proved useless to cover his ears. Sundown was unmercifully reflected in the friar’s soul following the disappearance of the beams which supported him. As he saw the sky stained with blood, he hastened to seal the wound through a prayer.
“LORD, my God, I call out by day;
At night I cry aloud in Your presence.
Let my prayer come before You;
Incline Your ear to my cry.
For my soul is filled with troubles;
My life draws near to Sheol.
I am reckoned with those who go down to the pit;
I am weak, without strength.
My couch is among the dead,
With the slain who lie in the grave.
You remember them no more;
They are cut off from Your care.
You plunged me into the bottom of the pit,
Into the darkness of the abyss.
Your wrath lies heavy upon me;
All Your waves crash over me. Selah
Because of You my friends shun me;
You make me loathsome to them;
Caged in, I cannot escape;
My eyes grow dim from trouble.
All day I call on You, LORD;
I stretch out my hands to You.
Do You work wonders for the dead?
Do the shades arise and praise You? Selah.
Is Your love proclaimed in the grave,
Your fidelity in the tomb?
Are your marvels declared in the darkness,
Your righteous deeds in the land of oblivion?
But I cry out to You, LORD;
In the morning my prayer comes before You.
Why do You reject me, LORD?
Why hide Your face from me?
I am mortally afflicted since youth; lifeless,
I suffer Your terrible blows.
Your wrath has swept over me;
Your terrors have reduced me to silence.
All day they surge round like a flood;
From every side they close in on me.
Because of You companions shun me;
My only friend is darkness.”31
He closed his eyes in a childish attempt to deceive his own body and hide it from the night, yet to no avail. The inner darkness was even more terrifying than the one waiting outside. A seizure caused him to lose his balance. The almond tree, naturally generous, extended its mutilated bare arm to support him.