Too many victims of the CCP virus (also known as COVID-19) pandemic in Wuhan face the same tragedy: the authorities don’t give relatives of the deceased a chance to say good-bye to them.
Mr. Yin was one.
Mr. Yin recounts the day of his mother’s death.
-
Reporter: “Could you tell us how the deceased are handled and the process you went through?”
Mr. Yin: “It was on February 1. I remember my father called saying that my mom hadn’t eaten much for three days and she was very weak. I did not relate her symptoms to the epidemic, so we took her to a regular hospital. She did not have a fever, just a bit of a coughed. I thought she was weak from lack of food intake and so blood sugar was low. So we went to a regular hospital. All patients have to go through chest CT to make sure they don’t have the coronavirus infection. When the doctor saw the CT image of her lungs, he told us to go to the hospital designated for treating coronavirus infections.”
Reporter: “Which hospital did you go to them?”
Mr. Yin: “PuAi Hospital in Wuhan, designated for coronavirus infections. The hospital staff said all people with coronavirus infections have to be hospitalized but there were no beds available. We had to go somewhere else.”
At that time, my mom was already unconscious and had collapsed in the wheelchair. I asked the doctor at the reception desk but he said he was too busy and was there alone. I called 120 (a number for an ambulance) but was told there aren’t enough ambulances. The person told me to wait and someone would call. To this day, no one called me. The medical staff told me they are simply too busy and had me call 110 (number for police) and ask the police to call 120.”
“I called 110 (police) and was told they didn’t handle such incidents and to call 120 (the number for medical emergency). That is, no one cared. I had to ask the doctor at PuAi Hospital for help. He told me that there was nothing he could do because there was no device or equipment of any sort available, and the most he could do was inject an anti-inflammatory. He mentioned another branch hospital in a suburb of Wuhan that was designated for treating the coronavirus. He told me to check if there was a bed. It was my last resort. I drove my mom to that hospital.“
Reporter: “Were there many patients?”
Mr. Yin: “It was a fever outpatient facility. There were many people inside and outside the clinics. Families of the patients were waiting everywhere, including outside on the lawn. My mom was having a hard time breathing, but no ventilator was available. Finally someone obtained a ventilator. I asked the doctor to find a bed. I had asked around before and one doctor told me to wait. I tried to locate the doctor who promised to help. But with the protective gear, it was hard to identify anyone. I looked for whoever I could find right there. Finally, someone called the inpatient department to get a bed. That’s how we got to the first registration at the ICU. The ICU staff told me to go home and get some things for my mom. So I left the clinic. Half-way home, they called and told me my mom had passed away.”
Reporter: “Did you ask to see your mom’s body? When did you last see her before her body was taken away?”
Mr. Yin: “The hospital told me that she was already dead, there was no need to see her, and just go home and wait for further notice. Then the funeral home called and told me that I didn’t have to go there because the body would be cremated in an hour, that is the government’s rule. That’s it. The next day I was told to pick up the ashes and didn’t need a death certificate. That was it. Give them my mother’s name, and they handed me an urn wrapped in a red cloth. They also told me no burial could be arranged at that time.”
Reporter: “What about the death certificate and the cause of death?”
Mr. Yin:“ The cause of death was indicated as “respiratory and circulatory failure,” nothing about the coronavirus.”
Reporter: “Were there many people at the cemetery?”
Mr. Yin: “I took a number; it was number 11. At around 9 am I went to the less popular cemetery. As for the popular ones, you can see on the web what is happening there. I drove by those places, and saw people waiting in a line that stretched for 200 meters. A clerk was set up right by the side of the road, and a lot of people were in line.”
Mr. Yin: “ As a son, seeing my mom suffering right in front of me, I didn’t even get to see her for the last time. You just felt totally useless. We trusted our country, we trusted the CCP, we followed its instructions. They locked down the city, we obeyed. They asked for cooperation, and we did. I trusted they would safeguard us. I trusted the country wholeheartedly. I asked only for very basic medical support, but got none, zero. I haven’t made any of this up. I experienced it myself. There’s no medical support, no one is there for you.”
Reporter: “How many others that you know have died, any idea?”
Mr. Yin: “There was Mr. Ding’s mother. There were also people from my mother’s workplace. There were about four or five people.”
Reporter: “How was life after being isolated at home?”
Mr. Ding: “We had no income. Both Mr. Ding and I are taxi drivers. We must pay the taxi company every month. Not going out means no income. We have had no income for a while. Life is relatively difficult.”
Mr. Yin: “The government has not mentioned anything about relief. The civil servants still have salaries even when staying home. We don’t. My wife doesn’t have a job either. We rely on one person to make a living. I am sure there are many people like us in Wuhan. But the government offers nothing. We have sacrificed a lot in Wuhan. There are relief funds in other countries, but not here.”
Reporter: “After going through all this, what’s on your mind?”
Mr. Yin: “This has happened suddenly. It’s a shock to everyone. Our society is swamped by it. I saw on the web that there were people taking to the street demanding subsidies. But I noticed there were many police around. Many people have temporary jobs or project-based jobs. In the past few months, these people have suffered the most. Many of them have elderly relatives at home to feed, loans, car payments, and house payments. I do too. But the government says nothing about waiving people’s loans. No one cares. There’s 3,000 yuan ($422.04) in financial aid for those who have family members who passed away in the pandemic. That’s it, and it’s only available for those who have a death at home. What kind of relief is that?”
“Most importantly, we didn’t get to say farewell to her and she was cremated very quickly. From a humanitarian perspective, it’s impossible to accept. It’s your relatives, your own mother and father, you don’t get to see them for the last time—only their ashes. Would you be able to accept that? In Italy, at least a coffin is there to allow you to see the person for the last time. That’s a basic human right. Saying goodbye shows a fundamental respect to those who parented us for decades. We can understand it’s the pandemic that no one expected, but there’s definitely resentment. My mom came from a big family, her sisters were in great sorrow after hearing the news. They felt extremely miserable because they didn’t even get to see her one last time. Their generation led a life of very minimum consumption (led a frugal life), and then some of these seniors just passed away without a trace. Basically, they did not have a chance to truly enjoy life by suddenly dying. The government has not done anything to help. A person just vanished for no reason.“
