[The Legacy Series] REDAMANCY - Love's Timeless Path

11th Note

(Rajendra)

—

"Emang lu anjing ya, Mas." Wimar cursed me. 

I only laughed while pulling on my scrubs in a hurry. 

For the record, I wasn't late. I was actually earlier than the scheduled start. But judging from the way he looked as if he'd been chased with a scalpel, I guessed the nurse team must have been grilling him before I walked in, making him all tense.

"Bisa-bisanya lu datang mepet banget?!"

"Relax. I just needed to recharge before coming here."

The look of disgust on his face was very clear. If we weren't minutes away from surgery, I might have planted one on his shoulder out of pure brotherly affection.

In the hushed corridors of the pediatric cardiac wing, I found myself gearing up for what would be one of the most intricate surgeries of my career. As a pediatric cardiac surgeon, I've tackled quite a few tough cases, but this one patient has me feeling a mix of determination and hope like never before.

Emily, the newborn baby, was battling a complex congenital heart defect known as *Tetralogy of Fallot. It's a jumble of four heart issues that mess with how the heart works and is put together. Honestly, there's been zilch info about how often this happens in Indonesia. That's why this kid holds a special place in my heart.

I remembered how her parents, anxious yet resilient, entrusted me with the delicate task of mending their daughter's tiny heart.

Thinking about how she had to fall asleep in the operating room right after her birth just made me realize how messed up it would be. Without surgery, kids like Emily face brutal statistics: 64% make it to age one, 23% to age ten, 10% to age twenty, and only 3% reach forty. With surgery, the numbers climb sharply: 83% survival by age ten, 79.6% long-term.

Numbers don't lie. But they still don't show how unfair it feels.

As the operating room doors swung open, I entered a world of sterility and focused precision. The hum of machinery and the beeping of monitors created a symphony of anticipation. The initial moments were about meticulous preparation—ensuring every tool was in its place and every monitor calibrated. Her small frame, draped in sterile sheets, lay vulnerable yet resilient, awaiting the transformative touch of surgical expertise.

Fixing up the Tetralogy of Fallot with total surgical correction is one way to go about it. It has a mortality rate of 3% in developed countries and 6.9–15.3% in developing countries. The main causes of death in patients who have undergone surgery include arrhythmia, heart failure, respiratory failure, and sudden death. The risk of sudden death increases by 6–9% within 30 years after surgery.

With a deep breath, I began the procedure. The first incision, a carefully calculated entry into the realm of her tiny heart, marked the commencement of a meticulous journey. As I navigated the intricate landscape of valves, chambers, and vessels, the heart-lung machine took over the vital task of circulating blood, allowing me to focus entirely on the delicate dance within.

The congenital defect posed a challenge that demanded a nuanced approach. Each stitch was a commitment to mending the intricate fabric of her heart, addressing the ventricular septal defect, pulmonary stenosis, overriding aorta, and right ventricular hypertrophy.

"Why do you want to become a pediatric cardiologist?"

Haira's voice rang in my head.

"Because I like children," I answered while gently stroking the top of her head. "I love seeing them laugh and run around happily. It doesn't seem fair to take that happiness away from them, right?"