Heartbeats of the City

Chapter 13

As I hurried down the hallway to Pediatrics, the buzz from my brief conversation with Miguel still lingered. But I had to focus—work always came first, and there was a new case waiting.When I arrived at the nurse's station, Bree was already there, reviewing a file. She looked up when she saw me and handed it over.

"You're going to want to take a look at this one, Michaela. It's not your typical pediatrics case."

I raised an eyebrow and flipped open the file, scanning through the details. It was a seven-year-old boy named Ethan, brought in by his parents after weeks of severe abdominal pain. His vitals were stable for now, but his symptoms were concerning—weight loss, intermittent fevers, and persistent vomiting. Initial tests showed a significant mass in his abdomen, and the pediatric team suspected something beyond the usual gastro issues.

"This could be surgical," Bree said, her tone serious.

I felt a knot form in my stomach. "Any idea what we're dealing with?"

"We're suspecting a tumor. It's in the upper abdomen, and it might be compressing some major blood vessels. That's why General Surgery's been called in."

Just as she said that, Miguel stepped into the room, looking more serious than I'd seen him all day. He caught my eye, giving a subtle nod, as though we both understood the gravity of the situation. He was holding Ethan's CT scan results in his hand.

"Hey, Michaela," he greeted, this time with no trace of the playfulness from earlier. 

"I just reviewed the scans, and it's not good. There's a large tumor located near the pancreas. We're going to have to collaborate on this one—it involves both pediatric and general surgery."

I sighed, flipping through Ethan's history again. "Poor kid. Any idea what kind of tumor?"

Miguel gestured toward the monitor, where Ethan's CT scan was displayed. 

"It looks like a neuroblastoma. It's aggressive, but we might still be in time to do something about it."

I bit my lip, processing the information. Neuroblastoma—a cancer that develops from immature nerve cells—was a tough diagnosis, especially when it was already this advanced.

"How's Ethan holding up?" I asked, switching into doctor mode.

"He's stable for now, but he's in a lot of pain. We'll need to operate soon before it starts impacting other organs," Miguel explained, his voice steady.

Bree glanced at both of us. "We should talk to the family. They need to understand how critical this is."

Miguel nodded. "I'll handle the surgical side. Michaela, you should be there too. The family will need to hear how it affects Ethan's overall condition. It's going to be a tough conversation."

We made our way to Ethan's room together, and as soon as we stepped inside, we were greeted by the sight of a small, frail boy lying on the bed, his parents sitting beside him, worry etched across their faces.

I approached them with a gentle smile. "Hi, I'm Dr. Quinn. I've been looking after Ethan. This is Dr. Ray, one of our general surgeons."