Thanks to the kindness of a couple, a famed plastic surgeon and a community, a 10-year-old boy from Peru can grow up.
By JEFFREY S. SOLOCHEK
Published November 29, 2004
NORTHDALE - Cristian Alfaro didn't have a normal nose until Oct. 14.
He wouldn't look at it - or his newly reconstructed right eye, cheekbone and forehead - for another three days. And that was only after his guardian, Melanie Gutierrez, goaded him into it.
"Actually, he was kind of mad at me," recalled Gutierrez, who brought the 10-year-old boy from Peru to her Northdale home and raised thousands of dollars so he could get life-altering surgery. "We had just washed him and turned him around. I was like, "Why don't you just give it a shot and see what this all was for?'
"He was like, "Okay,' " she continued. "He was just hoping I would go away."
Reluctantly, angrily, Cristian turned to the mirror. He grins when he thinks about what he saw.
"Bonito," he said simply in his gentle voice.
Handsome.
* * *
Cristian Jesus Inga Alfaro was born Dec. 1, 1993, with his right eye nearer to his ear than his nose. His nose was flattened to his face, and his eyebrow shifted toward the side of his head.
Too far apart, his eyes saw images that did not match until his brain overrode the right eye to keep Cristian from constant visual annoyance. And, unknown until he reached Florida, Cristian's brain had herniated, creating holes in his skull that his surgeon said could have ruptured like a watermelon at the slightest provocation.
He was at risk every minute, the surgeon said.
His parents, Oswaldo and Ana, could do little to help him. They earned about 60 U.S. dollars a month picking vegetables, and for one of them to stop working and care for Cristian meant that his sisters Jasmine and Flor might not eat.
So when he was 8 years old, Cristian moved into Villa La Paz, a medical clinic 24 hours away from his home by bus, founded by Tampa native Dr. Tony Lazzara. But while other patients came and went, Cristian remained, tended to but unhealed.
* * *
In many ways, Melanie Gutierrez had it all.
She was night charge nurse in the Tampa General Hospital transplant unit, hot on the trail of the next big promotion. Her husband, Mario, ran a successful floral shop in Ybor City.
Her kids attended the exclusive Tampa Prep.
"I was hung up in the American dream," she said. "Then wham, the entire dream was gone."
Gutierrez suffered a stroke in 1994. At age 43, she was done as a nurse.
Never really a religious person, she initially resisted a friend's urging to go to church. She recalled having little use for "a bunch of Bible-thumping freaks."
But soon after coming to grips with becoming a patient, unable to drive or do other things she was accustomed to doing, Gutierrez began seeking meaning. And she began visiting different religious establishments to find the one that best suited her.
One day at Most Holy Redeemer Church in Tampa - the place she now prays regularly - she listened as a doctor spoke of the work he was doing in Peru and asked for money. Gutierrez remembers having a hearty dose of skepticism that things were as bad as Tony Lazzara described.
"I just really, truly wanted to see for myself," she said.
So she headed to Peru.
* * *
For a while, Cristian didn't register on Gutierrez's radar screen during her increasingly frequent trips to volunteer at Villa La Paz.
Though his face was deformed, he was active physically and challenged intellectually. Compared to the starving babies around him, Cristian simply did not seem so bad off, she said.
But over two years, Gutierrez realized she never took Cristian to doctor appointments in Lima as she escorted other patients there. She began to wonder.
"I said, "Why is Cristian here?' " she recalled. "Tony said, "I don't know what we can do for him, but we need something done.' "
She took the comment to heart, and began investigating options.
* * *
Gutierrez brought a picture of Cristian back to Tampa, and showed it to her husband, Mario. Together, they talked about how they could help the boy.
Perhaps, they thought, the internationally known plastic surgeon Mutaz Habal might take the case. But the Gutierrezes knew Habal, who lives in Tampa Palms and has an office on Martin Luther King Boulevard, by reputation only. So they hesitated to ask.
Instead, they sought a middleman. Mario Gutierrez found that connection while decorating a home last year for Christmas.
The home belonged to anesthesiologist Richard Silver, and Mario Gutierrez happened to have Cristian's picture in his pocket. He showed it to Silver, and asked if he knew anyone who could fix the boy's face.
Silver had worked with Habal the day before and offered to hook the two together.
* * *
Habal, considered a pioneer in facial reconstruction, does not take every case that comes his way. He can't. And some patients can get the care they need from the doctors they have.
But in Cristian, he saw a child whose life could take a completely new path with the proper treatment, which was not available in Peru. Once complete, the surgeries and orthodontic work will make Cristian "a different man," Habal said.
So he waived his fees - the initial surgery would cost about $200,000 - and accepted the boy into his care.
* * *
While Cristian and his family waited for his visa to enter the United States, the Gutierrez family stumped for donations to his cause.
They collected $21,000 through a raffle, and persuaded University Community Hospital to accept only $20,000 for nine hours in a surgical suite and a week in intensive care. The other $1,000 went for prescriptions.
Other companies, groups and medical providers agreed to donate blood, equipment, services and more to Cristian.
"There are a lot of people in this area who like to help," Habal said.
Finally, as September wound to a close, Cristian arrived in Tampa with one set of clothes, a torn backpack and the nervous thrill that his life was about to change.
* * *
Cristian admits only to being slightly scared as his surgery approached.
He did not know it would last nine hours and require nine days in intensive care.
He did not know it would involve $18,000 worth of plates and screws.
He did not know that removing two ribs and some bone from his hip would hurt more than opening his face and putting those bones to work as a nose, cheek and eye socket.
Habal thumps on the nearest piece of wood as he says how pleased he is with the results.
"Look at that nose. See how nice it is? Look at that nose now," he says, examining Cristian a month later. "He really recovered well."
Cristian stares at a computer screen display of two CAT scans of his skull. He shows little emotion as Habal explains how the "after" shot came to look so different from the "before."
Rather, the 10-year-old complains that his arm is sore from writing assignments during his first day attending Claywell Elementary School in Northdale.
After a little more poking and prodding, Cristian is ready to leave the office. But not before giving Habal a handwritten note.
"I am okay," he wrote in Spanish. "I no longer have pain. Much thanks. Ciao."
* * *
The major surgery behind them, Cristian and the Gutierrez family have settled into a routine for the next few months, while Cristian gets his followup treatments.
Cristian quickly became just another kid at Claywell, where he's learning English and - with the help of some new friends - other academic lessons that will serve him well in his desire to become a teacher in Peru. No one has made a big deal about the scars stretching across his forehead and face.
Teachers gushed over just how bright and polite Cristian is and marveled at how well he gets along with the other children.
"He's got a lot of charisma about him," assistant principal Donna Fishbach said. "He's so comfortable to be around."
Outside school, he enjoys watching the Lord of the Rings trilogy and the Harry Potter movies. He loves laser tag and has chosen Dish in Ybor City as his favorite restaurant because he can choose exactly what goes on his plate.
For Halloween, he dressed as Frodo. Melanie Gutierrez made the costume.
Lately, he has been going through the Toys "R" Us catalog to pick out presents.
He has yet to send a picture of his new face home to Peru.
Melanie and Mario Gutierrez, whose children are grown, have gotten used to having a kid around again. They schedule their own appointments around his, focus their energy on his needs first.
"It was weird today," Melanie Gutierrez said recently. "One of my girlfriends came. I was like, "I can go out to lunch. But I have to be back by 2:30 p.m.' It was strange to have that responsibility again."
And though it's sometimes tough, they wouldn't have it any other way.
"If I made his life better," Melanie Gutierrez said, "then I've done something great."
* * *
Cristian has orthodontist, eye doctor and surgeon appointments into the foreseeable future. It will take his skull about a year to fully heal.
But if everything goes as planned, he will go home next year and, as Habal put it, "be done."
The Gutierrez family plans to establish a fund to continue Cristian's education, so he can accomplish his dreams.
A boy of few words, Cristian smiles and nods in recognition of how his life has changed.
