FIVE
Blood & Oxygen
It was just past four in the morning when Lourdes woke up Mauro. He had fallen asleep at a table in the cafeteria. Finally, they had a diagnosis and the doctor had scheduled a meeting for them to discuss the details.
They took the elevator up and sat in a small waiting area. It was equipped with a long, low-backed, square-shaped sofa that led to a hallway. In this hallway were the doors to three rooms and a couple of nurses who were busy with patients.
While they waited, Mauro thought the minimalist architecture had been chosen to provide tranquility. The walls, floor, and objects had simple shapes with smooth textures and monochromatic colors. The main lighting came from the edges of the ceiling and was subtly reinforced in the waiting area with six lamps in the form of slender golden cylinders hanging from the ceiling.
In front of the sofa, there was a black glass table with short legs, and on top of it, a small cylindrical transparent pot containing an ornamental plant with a medium-sized stem and pointed leaves, resembling the arms of a neuron.
Through the only window, you could see the city still without signs of sunlight. The early morning had turned rainy, and delicate drops continuously hit the glass before drying in the wind.
The doctor arrived down the hallway with a translucent digital tablet and augmented reality glasses. He was a man of Otavalo origin, with long, braided hair, dressed in a white coat. His nameplate identified him as Dr. Ankali Santander, a Quechua name. This demonstrated that ethnic origin was not a problem when it came to practicing a profession in a private company, unlike scientific invention projects.
Mauro and Lourdes stood up as the doctor approached them. Ankali greeted them and asked them to take a seat.
"Mrs. Uribe," he said in a friendly manner, "I'm very sorry. It's not good news."
Liliana's mother looked into the doctor's eyes, seeking some comfort.
"What... what does my daughter have?" she asked weakly.
"Your daughter has a condition in her immune system that mistakenly attacks the nerves," Ankali replied. "It's known as Guillain-Barré syndrome." He pressed the tablet's screen and played a three-dimensional animation. "The immune system damages the protective layer of nerves and prevents the transmission of signals to the brain, causing progressive loss of muscle control. Symptoms start as weakness and tingling in the feet and legs and then spread to the upper body, causing high blood pressure, difficulty breathing, and even swallowing."
There was silence as Lourdes and Mauro processed the information.
"My daughter has always been normal... she has never suffered from anything like that..." Lourdes said, her voice breaking. "Why would she have this disease now?"
"We initially thought it was due to some virus or bacteria, but after conducting tests, we realized that, although this autoimmune disorder usually appears after the age of thirty, unfortunately, Liliana has developed it two years earlier. The exact cause of the syndrome is unknown, and there is no cure."
Mauro dropped his head into his hands. His mind went blank, and a shiver ran down to his feet.
Liliana's mother's eyes welled up with tears. She took a white handkerchief from her pocket; it was clear she had used it all day yesterday, and she wiped her tears.
"There must be some mistake," Lourdes suggested.
"Trust us, Mrs. Uribe, we're sure. Guillain-Barré syndrome is very rare; it randomly affects one in a hundred thousand people. In general, it occurs after a digestive or respiratory infection, like the flu, and unfortunately, it cannot be prevented."
There was another silence.
Mauro's mind seemed to clear a little.
"Is there any treatment?" he asked, his face pale.
"Yes," Dr. Ankali replied when he turned to look at him. "Come with me."
The doctor led them down the hallway and stopped at the last room. Through the glass door, they could see the interior. It was an intensive care unit, with ample space, a large window, a couple of bedside tables, and a simple desk. Liliana lay on her back in the middle of the right wall, connected to a heart monitor and a small machine that extracted and then returned her blood. She had a tube in her mouth to help her breathe during plasmapheresis.
"The patient is sleeping," said the doctor. "We helped her breathe with an artificial device; her diaphragm muscle is the most affected."
Liliana's mother teared up when she saw her daughter, so suddenly, lying in a hospital bed.
Mauro couldn't bear the knot in his throat any longer and covered his eyes, trying to contain his sobbing.
"We're applying plasmapheresis therapy, which usually reduces the severity of the disease and accelerates recovery in most patients."
"Can she get better?" Mauro asked, a sudden glimmer of hope in his wet eyes.
"Guillain-Barré syndrome has not made much progress in recent years," Dr. Ankali explained. "It's generally reversible, but in this case, the patient's life is at risk due to her breathing problems. If necessary, we can provide physiotherapy sessions to maintain muscle strength and flexibility. But for now, our goal is to address her respiratory issues."
A nurse arrived at that moment, swiped a card over the door's lock, and the latches retracted. She entered and moved to the bed. She took a glass ampoule and a syringe from her apron, prepared the dose, and administered it through the catheter in Liliana's hand.
"We'll also use other medications to control pain and any possible complications that may arise," Ankali added. "It all depends on the patient's progress. It's a long recovery." He stepped away from the door and turned to face them.
"However, Mrs. Uribe," he said with some gravity in his voice, "I must be honest with you: while there is a good percentage of patients who recover and live with constant treatment, there are others who do not. In the worst-case scenario, the condition can progress to the point where the brainstem suffers an attack, and that would result in the patient's death."
One thing was clear in Mauro's mind; Liliana would not have the same life as before.
*
Throughout the early morning, Mauro remained awake with Lourdes. He couldn't sleep; every time he closed his eyes, Liliana appeared in the darkness, spinning back onto the stage, or standing in front of him with her arms outstretched amidst the city lights. In the worst moments, she hugged him, calling for help, and then he woke up disturbed.
At times, he thought that he had fallen into some terrible revenge of fate, all because he didn't believe in that idea Liliana always had, that there was something above human will weaving the paths of mortals. Some kind of connection with the cosmos that seemed absurd to him, but if it were true, he would be willing to fight against it.
In these mental battles, time passed, and he didn't know when the light spread into the waiting area. The sun was already visible through the window, shining above the buildings with a clarity not all countries could witness. Most of the time, the clouds were gray, covering the sky and causing constant and unpredictable rains. It was due to the global climatic disruption, a result of the volcanic winter that some regions of the Earth were experiencing, including countries that were considered "developed" just a few years ago.
*
When Liliana woke up, the nurse told Lourdes that she could see her daughter. Liliana's mother called for Mauro, and they went into the room together.
Amidst the constant beeping of the medical monitoring devices, Liliana's body looked like that of a disconnected robot. The fragile woman made an effort to turn her eyes and see them entering. Her gaze was so sweet that an air of optimism seemed to pass through the ventilator.
Lourdes hurried to the side of the bed, and her worry lessened a bit as she finally got close to her daughter.
"My Lily," she said lovingly, "everything will be okay." She gently stroked her forehead with her thumb. "The doctor says you will get better."
Her daughter responded with a slight nod of her head. Then she looked at Mauro, who stopped next to his mother, and her face tensed with concern. Despite being sick, Liliana was worried that Mauro might have missed work at the company, as she knew all too well that it was his life's goal. She thought that if she were to die, she wouldn't find peace knowing that she would be an impediment to him achieving his dreams. She was looking for a way to let him know, to tell him he could go, not to worry, that she would be fine.
The small movements of her face were enough for Mauro to understand what she was thinking.
"I wanted to stay here with you," he justified gently.
But his girlfriend barely shook her head, struggling to convey her message. Mauro noticed a trembling in Liliana's hand, and he saw her raise her index finger, quivering, as a sign for him to leave. He became uneasy as he didn't understand why she didn't want him in the room.
Lourdes's daughter, whose face now displayed a certain helplessness in being unable to communicate, accompanied by the limitations caused by pain, blinked her eyelids again to try to convey that she would be fine, that he could go. Then, her strength seemed to deplete, and she closed her eyes to rest under the tender touch of her mother's caresses.
Mauro remained pensive for a moment, impressed by Liliana's response. Lourdes assured him that she would stay with her, so he decided to leave the room silently, with moist eyes, and headed towards the company, as Liliana had requested.
*
The way to Mindsoft was completely different from the typical trips he took with his girlfriend through the metropolis. He took the tram and got off at the central park. As he walked through the grayish surroundings, enveloped by fog-shrouded buildings, his mind became increasingly introspective, as he had never felt before. He was really struggling to believe in the hope of recovery that Dr. Ankali had mentioned, but he had a bad feeling, something he couldn't identify and was becoming overwhelming.
His gaze met the black heels of a woman standing still in the middle of the path. He stopped and looked up. It was Victoria, dressed in a black formal suit, carrying the backpack that held the project's devices. Tears mixed with black mascara were streaming down her eyes.
"What happened?" he asked, sounding concerned.
"What happened?" she retorted, full of helplessness and indignation, her pupils trembling with a desire to hurt him. "Everything went to hell because of you!" Her voice was unstable, filled with anger and irony.
"You didn't tell them why I couldn't go, did you?" He approached to calm her.
"Get away, don't touch me!" she erupted uncontrollably and moved away, swinging her arm in the air. "Of course, I told them, idiot!" She forced back her tears. "They didn't care... I told you, I told you... damn fool, I told you! But you never listen." Her head shook with anger. She pushed her hair back and forced herself to take a breath. "You never listen," she whispered, distressed and incapable. She wished with all her might that she could release what was in her innermost thoughts so that it would hit him like a blow to the face that would hurt him as much as he hurt her.
He didn't know what to say, stunned by the outburst he had just received. Victoria had never treated him like this before. He had never seen her in such a state.
"But... what happened?" he cautiously asked.
"Some guy named Ronnie Coleman didn't want us to continue. He said it wasn't worth working with some rookie kids and just followed the dismissal protocol."
"There must be something we can do. You saw Lingford and Corban; they were interested in our work."
"Our work?" she interrupted with a bitter laugh.
"What do you mean?"
"Most of the time, I spent correcting your ridiculous mistakes."
"Wait, wait, what do you think? Do you think I'm happy with this? That it doesn't affect me? I made a mistake, yes, I know, but this matters to me as much as it matters to you. There has to be a way to fix it."
"You know what," she said, wiping her tears away with her hands and regaining some composure, "say whatever you want. If you want to do something..." She looked him in the eyes. "Get out of my life." She walked away from him and headed down the park's pavement.
Mauro remained in the same spot, not knowing what to do. Tears filled his eyes as he watched his friend disappear forever.
Comments ()