Stories of Death — life under the coronavirus

By HANNAH KOTLER ‘22 & NANCY JIANG ‘22

In mere days and nights, the epidemic skyrocketed. The virus loomed over and silenced the once bustling city of Wuhan. As of January 28, 100 people have died in Hubei. Now, according to The New York Times, the reported death toll exceeds 1,300 with 52300+ infected. You’ve probably heard that most Chinese students have cancelled flights home for March break. My (Nancy’s) maternal relatives are locked in the city of Wuhan, and from our brief, superficially optimistic conversations, I’ve learned that they are already accustomed to seeing a funeral home's van parked downstairs and bodies being carried out from the buildings and loaded on. Because numbers rarely carry emotions, we are sharing some personal stories and day-to-day realities we've read and translated from social media, in hopes that they will spark empathy and serve as a reminder for more kindness.

QianQian shared her story on Chinese blog platform Weibo in January 2020.

The city’s winter gloom often finds itself adorned in showers. As the sun set upon Lunar New Year’s Eve, QianQian, at the age of 17, was hurrying home from HanKou with immunoglobulin: an antibody for her mother that had taken her the entire day to find. At midnight, Wuhan authorities had locked down the last entrance to the city. “The hospital did not disinfect properly after my mother's lung surgery in January, but they were reluctant to take responsibility when she contracted the virus and was quarantined. Since visitation was strictly forbidden, mother had to find herself a caretaker… In the morning, I was informed of her organ failure, and her condition rapidly deteriorated that same day. The rescues, which according to my father were futile and performative, did not bring her back to life. Only after her death were we told that there had been no caretaker at all. My father, who was quarantined in another hospital, was devastated. My brother, who was sick and quarantined in a hotel, where the check-up line would never get to him, broke down helplessly when I brought myself to tell him the loss of our mother.

There was no funeral. We went to see her for the last time before the body was cremated. The doctor handed us her death certificate and gave no further explanation. We watched, silent, devastated, and powerless, as the corpse was pushed away.”

Perhaps the boost of the death toll in the country was less due to the virus but more due to the fear people have towards it. The authority’s fear of unrest when the virus's first cases appeared resulted in a month's delay in reporting the epidemic. Thus, no hospitals or people were warned to take appropriate preventative measures. When the outbreak finally was announced, people panicked; they flooded into hospitals for check ups only to get infected, and fled WuHan carrying the virus, inadvertently spreading it to the greater population community. Then, the government became so scared that they went extreme and shut down a metropolis without considering the consequences. People have argued that this shutdown, or "quarantine," would save people, but that is not how quarantines work. First of all, millions of people had already left Wuhan due to the delayed government action. More importantly, what does a quarantine mean for the Chinese? It's certainly not an isolation in a quality hospital that provides service and facilities; it is, for the vast majority, a lockdown inside their cramped apartments, likely without heating, and they still have to be exposed in an environment with high germ concentration for life essentials. The fact that Wuhan is a city with more than 12 million people means it could become very risky even to get food and medical supplies. Meanwhile, the lack of treatment implies that if they weren’t lucky enough to recover, they might never reunite with their family outside the city. The shutdown entails no public transportation, no police or gas stations. Since the adults also cannot go to work and generate income, families who survive will be left financially unstable. Under this condition, “quarantine” doesn’t offer the patients hope; it simply means having no access to any resource. For many, it’s essentially a death sentence.

III

SunLiang was interviewed by China Newsweek after he lost his father to the virus.

As hope lingered for a Wuhan resident’s mother in the ICU, his father caught the infection too: “We were constantly looking for medicine, trying to call in favors … My brother rushed back to our hometown, then the city gates closed. We couldn’t go back nor could he leave. All the hospitals rejected us, saying he had to be diagnosed before being admitted to the hospital. No hospital would diagnose him either. My brother had gone everywhere and begged everyone he could. To make matters worse, it was also on this day that our city, Huanggang, announced it would close the city at midnight. Traffic was horrible…” His father finally moved into a hospital, but the rooms were disorganized, staffing was scarce, and machinery was insufficient. Severe cases like his father’s didn't even have access to a blood oxygen monitor. “Everyone sees the new hospitals, but nobody knows how poor the conditions are here. Patients are here to await death. At dawn the fourth day, father called me saying that, for the past few days, food supplies came from only volunteers. He would have loved to eat something hot.” A week later, Sun Liang lost his father to the virus.

Nurses and doctors must leave their families and work hard. Despite their sacrifice, however, their efforts are undermined by China’s flawed pharmaceutical industry and health care system. So far, the system has failed the coronavirus’s test.

Hospitals throughout the country are dysfunctional and not at all capable of handling the massive population of the country. The huge bureaucracy couldn't care less about each individual: no hospital is willing to admit more people; hospitals are not in charge of patients' food or medication ... the hospitals keep pushing the responsibility around and bouncing the near dead back and forth. The leaders are too scared to report the real situation to their workers, so no one can find appropriate solutions in time. In the cities around Wuhan, going to the hospital is frankly worse than staying home. Once a patient is infected, they’re waiting for death. And a patient without favors or money? They're dead for good.

An article about the death of a disabled 17-year-old has been trending on Wechat, the Chinese social platform since January.

On January 29th, the coronavirus destroyed another already-fragmented family that had gone through a series of mishaps. Ten years ago, the mother of two sons committed suicide when her younger son was diagnosed with autism. Her older son had suffered from cerebral palsy for seven years. Life didn’t become easier as the two brothers grew up. This winter, the 17-year-old older brother, Yan Cheng, was confirmed to have the coronavirus; his father and the 11-year-old son Xiao Wei, who were then exposed to high possibility of infection, were forced to quarantine and leave Yan Cheng at home alone. Village officials promised to take care of his disabled son when the quarantined family members temporarily settled down at a medical center sponsored by the local government. However, it was said that nobody was there to bathe him, change his clothes, or provide sufficient substantial health care. Unfortunately, Yan Cheng died on January 29th due to both multiple organ failures induced by the virus and the lack of essential daily supplies. A few days later, his father was confirmed as another coronavirus case.

Yan Cheng received very little care in the last few days of his life: local medical centers refused to accept him, fearing that as a cerebral palsy patient with severe incontinence, Yan Cheng would contaminate the environment and cause an outbreak of the virus within the hospital. In fact, this fear of the virus and indifference towards an especially vulnerable patient only exacerbate the current situation. Indeed, apprehension and detachment struck more families than Yan Cheng’s. Because of her registered residency in Wuhan, my aunt’s hotel room reservations were cancelled on her business trip. Furthermore, as coronavirus receives widespread attention as a global emergency, foreign countries including the United States have taken measures that, according to Chinese Foreign Ministry Chief Hua Chunying, “could only cause panic and spread fear” instead of offering assistance. Taiwan refused to sell or donate medical devices to mainland, and various countries have imposed travel restrictions denying entry to all foreign visitors who have been to China recently; meanwhile, the United States, along with taking the lead in imposing excessive travel bans on Chinese travellers and suggesting a partial withdrawal of its embassy staff, spearheaded the suspension of major airlines to China and disregarded China’s urgent need of medical masks, protective suits and safety goggles. As we learn more about the severity of the virus, necessary precautions are understandable; however, the excessive measures adopted by the U.S. and some other countries reflect only their aloofness and selfishness.

On February 7th, Wuhan Central Hospital announced the death of their doctor, Li WenLiang.

The whistleblower of the virus outbreak, Doctor Li Wenliang, died on the night of February 6th. Early in December, Doctor Li posted in his college alumni group chat that seven patients from a local wildlife food market had been diagnosed with a SARS-like illness and were quarantined in his hospital in Wuhan. Soon after he posted this message, the Wuhan police accused Doctor Li of rumor-mongering, which triggered widespread anger toward the local government. Unfortunately, a few days later, Li was hospitalized and was confirmed to have contracted the virus.

After a month-long battle against the virus, Li passed away on February 6th, but Chinese social media claimed his death at 2:58 am on February 7th, after several hours of extracorporeal membrane oxygenation and other treatments. As his death led to a massive outpouring of grief and global condolence, foreign voices also reported the widespread fury on China’s social media channels; according to CNN, comments under the hospital’s Weibo (a popular Chinese blog platform) statement of Li’s death demanded an explanation of the treatment he had received in his last hours.

VII

The local government silenced the frontline doctor from outreaching and raising national attention in the first place. The downplay of the outbreak’s severity and risks caused us to miss the optimal time to prevent and control the virus. Undoubtedly, the government owes Li an apology. Moreover, foreign news claimed that there were more apparent efforts to control the narrative even after Li’s death, leading to widespread anger. CNN described Chinese people as having “hours of confusion” as the Chinese social media erupted in mourning before the official statement of his death.

There are many more real and heart-rending stories I've been told by my friends. These are real people being harmed. So, to the people who haven’t experienced the pain but continue to make jokes, please refrain. The Chinese people are desperate but helpless. We have no idea when we will be going home. Lu Xun once said: “I hope the youth of China can reject apathy and strive for a brighter future. Do not abandon yourself. We must voice our opinions and take action. We are like fireflies in the night; even while yearning for a beacon of light, we take it upon ourselves to ward off the darkness. If the beacon never appears, we become the sole source of light in this world.” Though there’s not much we can do, we are all trying to stay strong and stay brave. I call my family and friends as much as I can, tell them to keep fighting, and donate every penny to the charities that seem trustworthy to me. That is all we can do as fireflies against the night.

Mark PangFebruary 17, 2020