Page 1 of My Heart's Doctor
Chapter 1
“Don’t give up, please don’t yield,
even though the cold burns,
even though fear bites,
even though the sun hides and the wind falls silent,
there is still fire in your soul,
there is still life in your dreams,
because life is yours and desire is yours too...”
—Mario Benedetti
Devon
2 years ago
Icouldn’t stop crying. That day I had signed the divorce papers. My 4-year marriage had come to an end, and thatnegotiationput the final period on many years of relationship with Lino. I felt like my heart was breaking forever. I was overwhelmed by such great sadness and such deep pain that I had no idea how to go on. My life had completely fallen apart. And it wasn’t just because of the separation from Lino, even though it hurt because I thought I loved him, but his cold, hurtful, and indifferent attitude toward my pain had wounded and disappointed me too much. Besides, it was obvious that he didn’t love me or was interested in staying by my side. Sometimes, what we consider love is nothing more than possession and habit.
Two months earlier, I had received the devastating news that I would never be able to get pregnant, I couldn’t conceive children, and that news had also put an end to my hope of starting a family.
Until that moment, I was happily married, or so I thought, to Lino Coller. Having children was our dream, but not being able to conceive became an obstacle for our relationship, and my husband, with cruel insensitivity and without consideration, abandoned me for that reason. The rejection was painful. He blamed me for the breakdown of our relationship, claiming that this situation was so dramatic that it was difficult to bear and that he didn’t want to give up being a father and the plans he had made for his life, plans that I had apparently thwarted with my inability to conceive a child. I could almost understand it, but I never thought that the person I thought I loved would be so cruel to me. I lived through a silent and invisible grief. To the anguish of the loss, because that’s how I felt when I was informed of the irrevocable diagnosis, I added the abandonment by my husband and the loneliness in which I was immersed.
I also didn’t have a family to support me and make me feel comforted. My mother and sister, instead of offering their support and consolation, had treated me as useless, worthless, and I don’t know how many more reproaches, saying thatI didn’t deserve a man like Lino by my side. According to my mother, I had been a constant source of disappointment for her. To tell the truth, this didn’t surprise me because all my life I had lived with that treatment; my mother had never been affectionate, but rather demanding and cold, and my sister treated me more like her competition than her own sister. My father had been the only one who had really given me affection and had always defended me, but with his death, I had been left completely alone. But I wasn’t going to let my life be marked by cruel people; that would be giving them too much importance. For my peace of mind, when my father passed away, they had moved to Chile, and having them far away was a kind of luck for me.
I considered myself a brave person and, although at that moment I felt an emotional whirlwind, I was going to do everything I could to move forward. I had accepted my pain and was going to try to find my way in life again. The love for my profession and the warmth of my patients were going to help me, I had no doubt. I loved what I did; I practiced it out of vocation. My profession gave me that inner happiness I needed; it stimulated and motivated me. Although it was an irony of life, I was a doctor specializing in pediatrics, and I spent almost 15 hours a day, or sometimes more, surrounded by little ones who brightened my life. Since I was little, I had been clear that I was going to be achildren’s doctor, I had chosen that profession because I adored them and wanted to do everything in my power to provide them with warm care and prevent their health problems and, in case of illness, diagnose and treat them. I tried to connect with parents and little ones to share what I had learned and give them peace of mind.
That moment in my life was hard, like others I had experienced, but I wasn’t going to get stuck in pain; I had to accept the loneliness, both physical and emotional, and heal. For that, I needed to spend time with myself, time to recover, so I was packing my bags to go on a trip, recover, and come back with the energy needed to face my long workdays. My friend Sylvia and my friend Orson had taken a few days off to accompany me. I don’t know what I would have done if they hadn’t been by my side; they were my great pillar and my support. Orson was an architect, and I had known him all my life; Sylvia was a nurse, and we had known each other since high school. At that time, Sylvia and I were 27 years old, and Orson was 29. We were great friends, and for me, they were my family, the family I had chosen, and now I could say the only one because the one I had formed with Lino no longer existed, and my blood family despised me.
Present Day
“Dr. Dulcet, excuse me for bothering you,” apologized nurse Rosi as she entered the place where I was taking off my coat to change and leave the medical clinic, “a 3-year-old girl just arrived who won’t stop crying and won’t let herself be examined. I know you were leaving and that you’ve been here for more than 20 hours, but the doctor on duty is new, and I think she’s overwhelmed, and the girl is crying heartbreakingly and doesn’t want her to approach. I know clearly that children love you; perhaps you could see this girl before you leave. I know I’m taking advantage of your generosity, but I’m sure you’re the only one who can get that girl to let herself be examined.”
“No problem,” I said, smiling and putting my lab coat back on. “If Dr. Mesati doesn’t mind, I’ll try to win the little girl’s trust. Wait a second and we’ll go together, Rosi.”
“You’re an angel, doctor. Don’t worry about Mesati because she was the one who asked for you. Everyone knows you have a special relationship with children and they all love you.”
“Not just me, Rosi,” I said, as I left the room where I was changing to head to where the little girl was.
As I walked, I began to hear the heart-wrenching cry of a small child and guessed it was from the little girl I was going to attend to. When I arrived, I found Dr. Mesati on the verge of a nervous breakdown, the little girl crying loudly, and a woman who looked about 60 years old trying unsuccessfully to calm her down.
“Good evening. I’m Dr. Dulcet,” I introduced myself, extending my hand to the woman who I assumed was hergrandmother. “Doctor, don’t worry, I’ll take care of this,” I added, looking at Mesati.
“Thank you, Dr. Dulcet,” she said with relief, “I haven’t been able to examine her because she won’t even let me get close. I swear I tried everything to calm her down, but it’s been impossible—she cries more with each passing second.”
“Let’s see what I can do with this beautiful and charming little girl,” I said, looking at the child affectionately and smiling at her, while also feeling evaluated by her.
“Thank you,” Mesati repeated and quickly left the room.
“Pleased to meet you, doctor. My name is Alba and I take care of Aurora,” said the woman accompanying the little girl.
“Are you a relative?”
“No, I’m her nanny,” she clarified.
