ASIA / PACIFIC
June 1, 2020
THE ASIAN REPORTER n Page 5
Street dog helps see Chinese
nurse through virus traumas
BEIJING (AP) — Zhang Dan was
among the first to respond to the call
for help in China’s coronavirus epi-
center. The 36-year-old nurse worked
through gruelling days, ministering
to patients who needed assistance
from breathing to merely eating.
She struggled — but then, a little
street dog helped her through.
Zhang was among 42,600 medical
workers brought from around China
to bolster Wuhan’s overwhelmed
medical system. Hospitals were
crammed with patients and field
clinics were thrown up to handle the
overflow.
“I can’t save the world, but I can try
my best with my tiny efforts to do
what I can do to help,” Zhang said.
Her parents and grandparents
worried about her decision to
volunteer — and she herself prepared
for the worst. She purchased life
insurance that would benefit her
parents if she succumbed to the
illness. Having no children, she
figured her husband could start over
if she died.
Her husband having returned to
his home province for the Lunar New
Year holiday, Zhang’s mother moved
into their apartment in the city of
Changchun to look after her plants
and four dogs.
Zhang and the rest of her
133-member team had one day of
orientation in early February before
they were thrown into the fray.
NURSE’S AID. Chinese nurse Zhang Dan poses for a photo while working at the Tongji hospital
in Wuhan in central China’s Hubei province. Zhang was among the first to respond to the call for
help in China’s coronavirus epicenter. The 36-year-old nurse worked through gruelling days, minis-
tering to patients who needed assistance from breathing to merely eating. She struggled — but
then, a little street dog helped her through. (Zhang Dan via AP)
It took 40 minutes to don the pro- she said.
It was all so overwhelming. And
tective gear: four layers of protective
gowns and gloves, three layers of shoe then the pooch came along.
covers, two hats, two pairs of masks,
The small, yellowish street dog had
goggles, and a face shield. To avoid caught Zhang’s eye during her walks.
bathroom breaks, they wore adult Always with her tail between her
diapers so they wouldn’t waste time legs, she wolfed down the ham Zhang
or gear by taking off the layers and offered. She named her Doudou, or
having to dispose them.
“bean.”
The work soon extended to
Feeding Doudou became a welcome
providing daily life care for the mostly distraction, and a daily preoccupa-
elderly patients who were without tion. In frigid winter temperatures,
family members to help them. Zhang she made the dog a vest from part of
sang to the patients to try to raise her scrubs.
their spirits, and washed their hair
By mid-March, teams such as
and feet.
Zhang’s were beginning to pack up.
“We bought food if they needed it, Little Doudou was going to need a
soap, toothpaste, and towels, and permanent home. Zhang posted video
Continued on page 11
medicine when there was a shortage,”
Virus diary: In Hong Kong lockdown, watched by a wristband
By Zen Soo
The Associated Press
ONG KONG — It took only a few seconds.
Shortly after I stepped off a flight from
Singapore, an official at the Hong Kong
immigration counter gestured for me to extend my arm,
then strapped a bulky plastic box to my wrist.
And just like that, I had a new companion for the next 14
days of self-isolation — a government quarantine tracker.
In online pictures, the trackers were inconspicuous
devices almost like a concert wristband. Those didn’t look
so bad. What I got, though, was a gadget about the size of a
deck of cards that I had to pair with a government
quarantine app. After that, if I left my home or stepped
more than 30 feet from my phone for a prolonged period of
time, the app would alert authorities that I may have
broken quarantine.
The bulky tracker turned out to be a new version
released after Hong Kong admitted that only a third of the
first-generation wristbands actually worked. The rest
simply never activated.
On the taxi ride home, I examined it closely. The tracker
hardly looked like a high-tech device meant to keep tabs
on me. It was so light that I wondered if maybe it was an
empty shell, a cheap fake to trick me into staying put.
I wasn’t about to take it off to find out, even though
having a tracker branded me as a potential risk to society,
at least for two weeks. I found myself trying to hide it
when I arrived at my apartment building, afraid others
might see and shun me.
Over the next two weeks, I wore the tracker in the
shower, while exercising, and of course, to sleep.
Sometimes I’d forget about it entirely. At other moments,
the constant presence on my wrist was all I could feel, a
perpetual reminder that I was a virtual prisoner in my
home.
It did make a handy conversation starter. When I
showed it off at a friend’s Zoom birthday party, many
giggled at the size of it. One attendee called it my ankle
monitor.
Despite the jokes, I was keenly aware that I was
privileged to be in comfortable quarters, unlike some who
had to quarantine in Hong Kong’s infamous cage homes —
regular apartments effectively subdivided into tiny cells.
But being in quarantine also frustrated me. I had to rely
on the goodwill of my flatmate to help me buy groceries
and the like, and I used food delivery services for most of
my meals to avoid having to trouble her.
Sometimes, I’d forget which day of the week it was.
When I needed fresh air, I’d stick my head out of the one
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MONITORED MOVEMENT. Associated Press reporter Zen Soo
pokes her head out the window (top photo) for some fresh air while serv-
ing her 14-day quarantine at home in Hong Kong. In the bottom photo,
Soo walks along the Quarry Bay Promenade in Hong Kong on her first
day of freedom after home quarantine. (AP Photos/Vincent Yu)
window in my living room that wasn’t grilled shut,
envying people walking freely outside.
Since neither tracker nor app did much to attract
attention, it was easy to forget I was under surveillance —
at least, until an alert popped up on my iPhone to remind
me the app was watching. On the third day of my
quarantine, a government official called to check if I was
at home. On the 10th day, two uniformed officers came
knocking, asking me to show identification to prove I
hadn’t gone anywhere.
When the clock struck midnight on a Sunday in mid-
April, my quarantine was over. Immediately, I snipped off
the tracker and tapped the “Finish the quarantine” button
in the app before uninstalling it. What a relief.
Just to be sure, though, I got out a hammer and a
screwdriver and cracked the tracker open, then removed
the small circuit board inside and pulled out its battery.
Free at last.
Virus Diary, an occasional feature, showcases the coronavirus saga
through the eyes of Associated Press journalists around the world.
®
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