Beneath Lies [F reader / Aiah Arceta]

Chapter 5

3rd pov

The day had started off like any other, with Y/n attempting to go about her routine despite the persistent headaches that had been plaguing her for weeks. As someone who had always been able to push through discomfort, Y/n tried to ignore the pain, focusing instead on the book in her lap. But today was different. The pain wasn't something she could brush aside; it was sharp, searing, and it radiated from the back of her head down her spine.

Y/n clenched her eyes shut, trying to will the pain away, but it only intensified, making her feel like her brain was being squeezed. She knew this wasn't just a typical headache—she could feel the familiar but terrifying signs of her condition taking hold. Her hands trembled, and a wave of nausea hit her so hard that she had to lie down, barely making it to the bed.

Just as the room started spinning, Dr. Vergara entered, her usual calm demeanor faltering the moment she saw Y/n's state. The sight of Y/n writhing in pain, clutching her head as if it might split open, sent a chill down her spine. She had seen Y/n suffer before, but this was different—this was worse.

"Y/n, can you hear me?" Dr. Vergara's voice was steady, but the undercurrent of panic was unmistakable. She quickly moved to Y/n's side, her trained hands already assessing the situation. The tremors had started to take over Y/n's body, and Dr. Vergara's heart raced as she realized that Y/n was on the brink of a seizure.

"Nurse! I need help in here now!" Dr. Vergara called out, her voice sharp and urgent. Within seconds, Nurse Anne rushed into the room, her eyes widening as she took in Y/n's condition.

"She's about to seize. Get the Diazepam ready," Dr. Vergara instructed, trying to keep her voice calm. She positioned Y/n on her side, ensuring her airway was clear in case the seizure started. The minutes ticked by in agonizing slow motion as they prepared for the worst.

Just as Nurse Anne handed over the medication, Y/n's body tensed, and her eyes rolled back—she was seizing. Dr. Vergara administered the Diazepam quickly, praying it would take effect before the seizure could cause any more damage.

The room was tense, filled with the sound of Y/n's labored breathing and the frantic beeping of the heart monitor. Y/n's body convulsed violently, her limbs jerking uncontrollably as the seizure ran its course. Dr. Vergara and Nurse Anne worked in sync, adjusting Y/n's position and monitoring her vital signs, but Dr. Vergara couldn't shake the gnawing fear that this was more than just another episode.

After what felt like an eternity, the seizure finally subsided. Y/n lay motionless, her chest heaving with shallow breaths, and Dr. Vergara let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding. But as she checked Y/n's pulse, her concern only deepened. Y/n was still unresponsive, and her vital signs were unstable.

"We need to get her to the OR," Dr. Vergara said, her voice firm with resolve. "This isn't just a flare-up. It's her Focal Cortical Dysplasia—it's progressing. We need to operate now before it causes irreversible damage."

Nurse Anne nodded, already preparing for the emergency transport. As they wheeled Y/n out of her room, Dr. Vergara couldn't help but feel a deep sense of dread. She had been treating Y/n for 2 years, managing her symptoms with medication and careful monitoring. But Focal Cortical Dysplasia was unpredictable—sometimes, the abnormal brain tissue would lie dormant, and other times, it would flare up with a vengeance, triggering severe seizures that could lead to brain damage or worse.

As they entered the operating room, Dr. Vergara explained to the team what they were dealing with. "Y/n has Focal Cortical Dysplasia, a rare neurological disorder where parts of her brain didn't develop properly. This abnormal tissue is causing her seizures, and the recent flare-up has caused increased pressure in her brain. We need to remove as much of the dysplastic tissue as we can to stabilize her."

The surgery was risky, but it was Y/n's best chance. Dr. Vergara scrubbed in, her mind racing with the intricacies of the procedure. The abnormal tissue was located in a delicate area of Y/n's brain—removing it could stop the seizures, but there was also a risk of affecting her motor skills or cognitive functions. It was a high-stakes balance between preserving Y/n's quality of life and eliminating the source of her suffering.

The surgery lasted hours, each moment fraught with tension as Dr. Vergara carefully navigated Y/n's brain, removing the abnormal tissue piece by piece. When it was finally over, she stepped back, her hands trembling from the intensity of the procedure. The worst was over, but the road to recovery would be long and uncertain.

Later, when Y/n finally woke up, groggy and disoriented, Dr. Vergara was there, her expression a mix of relief and stern concern.

"You gave us quite a scare," Dr. Vergara said softly, though there was an edge to her voice. "Bakit hindi mo sakin sinabi na your headaches were getting worse? You could've had this seizure at any time, and it could've been much worse."

Y/n looked down, guilt washing over her as she recalled the pain she'd tried to ignore. "I'm sorry... I didn't want to worry anyone."

Dr. Vergara sighed, her frustration evident. "You have to let me know when something changes, Y/n. Your condition is serious, and we need to stay on top of it. You're not allowed to leave your room for the next two weeks, understood? No more pushing yourself."

Y/n nodded slowly, realizing the gravity of her situation. She had always tried to stay strong, to not let her illness dictate her life, but now she knew that she couldn't afford to ignore the warning signs.

As Dr. Vergara left the room, Y/n lay back against the pillows, the reality of her condition settling in. The surgery had gone well, but she knew there would be more challenges ahead. Her Focal Cortical Dysplasia was a constant shadow, a reminder that her life would always be a careful balancing act between managing her symptoms and trying to live as normally as possible.