Chapter Text
Not long after her fifth birthday, Mirabel Madrigal had begun complaining of sporadic stomach aches and pains. As she'd been quite a sickly, premature bebé, this revelation wasn't terribly unfitting. But what was odd, was that before her fifth birthday, little Mirabel Madrigal was a perfectly normal, healthy child. These stomach issues would disappear and then reoccur off and on throughout her life, until things came to a head, six months before her sixteenth birthday. This would be the catalyst which would derail the entire trajectory of her future.
Julieta Madrigal was sitting, hunched over in one of the chairs in Dr. Ramirez's office, her face buried in her hands, crying. She lifted her head, trying, but failing to wipe the tears from her face.
"Is there anything I could've possibly done differently? To have caught this earlier on? I'm her mother and a pediatric nurse, I should've known. I should've known something. I should've done something!"
Doctor Ramirez sighed and spun his monitor to face Julieta, who was now sitting up, clutching her esposo's hand for dear life. They both looked utterly despondent.
"As you can see, this is a very rare case. Statistically speaking, your hija is the youngest patient ever to develop this type of disease. I believe there was one other teenager who contracted this type of disease, the second oldest patient being 22 years of age. It is most commonly found in adults of 45 years of age or older. And even then, it can take up to 10-15 years for symptoms to appear. I'd say it started making its appearance when she was around, say, five years old. Which would mean that it took about 10 years for it to develop into what it is now. This makes sense, seeing as the timeline of symptoms you and your hija gave us, lines up pretty well with the stages in which the disease progresses."
Agustín glanced at his esposa in worry. She didn't appear to be looking in any certain direction, she simply stared ahead in a daze, eyes squinted, eyebrows furrowed. He could practically hear the gears turning in her head; as if she were wracking her brain, trying to remember, to see how she could've possibly missed every single sign. Every single sign that could've prevented this from happening. He knew. He felt the exact same way.
Agustín took off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "But she had all of the early symptoms when she was so young. When we took her to the doctors, they told us it was just bloating, that there was nothing really wrong with her!"
"Most doctors don't associate this type of illness with such young people due to the rarity of the disease in adolescents. Pediatricians write it off as a stomach ache or another minor ailment, especially in its earlier stages, when symptoms only appear sporadically. This is uncharted territory we're in right now. Now, that's not to say that her pediatricians were correct in the manner they went about it-"
Agustín interrupted, angrily gripping the arms of his chair. "-Which part?! When they told us it was just bloating?! When they told us to watch her diet!? When we came back a second and third time, and they wrote us off, again?! Nothing about this is correct! Nothing!"
Breathing heavily, Agustín flopped back into his seat. Resting his elbow on the arm of his chair, he rubbed the bridge of his nose and tried to discreetly wipe the tears that pricked in the corners of his eyes. His shoulders shook as he erupted into quiet, heartbroken sobs.
Julieta got up from her chair and knelt in front of him. Her soft spoken words of comfort and the soothing, gentle touch of her hands running up and down his arms steadied his breathing and calmed the racing thoughts in his head. She brought a hand up to caress his cheek. He sighed.
"Amor, breathe."
The doctor cleared his throat. "I-ah, I am very sorry for my very poor choice of words. I can't imagine what you're going through or what you're feeling. But I can promise you, your daughter will get the highest level of care possible. We will do everything we can to make sure that she lives a long, happy, fulfilled life."
Agustín wiped his eyes. "I'm sorry for my outburst."
"Don't apologize, please. It's ok." He turned to Julieta. "I want to schedule a few more tests, as soon as possible, to see where we're at with the progression of the disease before I schedule Mirabel's surgery. These tests will better prepare us for the road ahead and for the surgery."
Julieta nodded and gripped the handles of her handbag. "That sounds like a good plan, Dr. Ramirez. When did you want to schedule them?"
Dr. Ramirez slid his reading glasses down his nose, scanning through the calendar on his monitor. "Ahh, there! How about early next week? They're all scans, nothing invasive, so we can get them all finished in one go if you have time?"
"Sí, of course. We can make that work. Gracias."
As the couple got up to leave, they were stopped one last time by Dr. Ramirez.
"Just a few words of advice before you go? Don't be afraid to call me with any questions."
They nodded. "Of course."
"And-umm. This one's a little bit harder to put into words." He sighed. "Ok. Now, as you probably already know, mental health is a very important aspect in any illness. Your daughter's life has just been turned upside down. This diagnosis will certainly take a toll on her mental health."
Julieta gripped the door frame until her knuckles turned white. "So, what can we do?"
"Make sure her life is as normal for her as you possibly can, without it being a detriment to her, physically. A 'new normal', if you will. Keeping her isolated will do more harm than you think. Keep her in school for as long as you can. The social interaction will help her. Let family and friends visit. Let them help you. Accept any comforts they offer. It really does take a village."
Sniffling, Julieta adjusted the bag on her shoulder and nodded. "Thank you, Doctor Ramirez."
Agustín nodded, wrapped his arm around his esposa, and they both walked out the door.
Hearing the door click shut, Dr. Dario Ramirez leaned back in his chair and let out a long winded, forlorn sigh.
After only a few minutes of contemplation, he came to a decision:
He was going to do everything in his power to save this young girl's life. Everything.