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ASIA / PACIFIC August 2, 2021 THE ASIAN REPORTER n Page 5 Pandemic leaves Indians mired in massive medical debts AP Photo/Jeff Roberson Continued from page 4 TABOO TATTOOS. A tattoo on the arm of Yan Peng of China, top photo, a men’s 3-on-3 basketball player, is seen during the 2020 Summer Olympics on July 25, 2021 in Tokyo, Japan. In the bottom photo, water droplets fall down the back of a swimmer and across an Olympics rings tattoo during the Tokyo Olympics. Taboo in Tokyo, tattoos on display at Olympics AP Photo/Charlie Riedel TOKYO (AP) — Taboo in much of Tokyo, tattoos are everywhere at the Olympics. There’s the lion on British swimmer Adam Peaty’s shoulder. An inspirational message on the arm of Chinese 3-on-3 basketball player Yan Peng. A likeness of Christ the Redeemer on the calf of Spanish boxer Gabriel Escobar Mascunano. And the Olympic rings. So many Olympic rings. French swimmer Fantine Lasaffre has them on her left forearm, and American shooter Kayle Browning on her right wrist. They’re on Moroccan boxer Abdelhaq Nadir’s left bicep, and on the ankle of Canadian gymnast Shallon Olsen. Italian gymnast Vanessa Ferrari has them, too, on the back of her neck — along with ink commemorating previous trips to the Beijing, London, and Rio de Janiero Games. Athletes won’t do much mingling with locals at these pandemic-restricted Olympics. If they did, they might not find their body art as welcome. Tattoos remain stigmatized in Japan, where those with them are commonly banned from beaches, gyms, pools, and elsewhere around Japan. No such restrictions in the Olympic bubble, though. In the pool, on the beach, at the range — the athletes are redefining what it means to have the mark of a champion. often are out-of-pocket health expenditure and catastrophic costs of treatment,” said K Srinath Reddy, president of the Public Health Foundation of India. In the northeastern city of Imphal, 1,490 miles away, Diana Khumanthem lost both her mother and sister to the virus in May. Treatment costs wiped out the family’s savings, and when the private hospital where her sister died wouldn’t release her body for last rites until a bill of about $5,000 was paid, she pawned the family’s gold jewelry to moneylenders. When that wasn’t enough, she asked her friends, relatives, and her sister’s colleagues for help. She still owes some $1,000. A health insurance scheme launched by Prime Minister Narendra Modi in 2018 was intended to cover around 500 million of India’s 1.3 billion people and was a major step toward easing medical costs. But it doesn’t cover the primary care and outpatient costs that comprise most out-of-pocket expenses. So it hasn’t “effectively improved access to care and financial risk protection,” said a working paper by researchers at Duke University. The program also has been hobbled by disparities in how various states implemented it, said Shawin Vitsupakorn, one of the paper’s authors. Another paper, by the Duke Global Health Institute and the Public Health Foundation of India, found costs of ICU hospitalization for COVID-19 are equivalent to nearly 16 months of work for a typical Indian day laborer or seven to 10 months for salaried or self-employed workers. Meager funding of healthcare, at just 1.6% of India’s GDP, is less, proportionately, than what Laos or Ethiopia spends. At the outbreak’s peak in May, hospitals everywhere were overrun, but public facilities lacked the resources to handle the floods of patients coming in. “The result is a suffering public health system, where the provision of care is often poor, prompting many to flock to private hospitals,” said Dehejia. A public hospital treated Khumanthem’s mother, but her sister Ranjita was admitted to a private one that cost $1,300 per day. Ranjita was the family’s only earner after Khumanthem left her nursing job last year to return home during the first wave of the virus. She’s now hunting for work while looking after her father and COVID COSTS. Diana Khumanthem, 30, and her three-year- old nephew Hridhaan look at photographs on the mobile phone of Hridhaan’s mother Ranjita, who died of COVID-19 at home in Imphal, in Manipur, India, on June 28, 2021. Diana lost both her mother and sister to the virus in May. A public hospital treated Di- ana’s mother, but her sister Ranjita was admitted to a private hospital that cost $1,300 per day. Ranjita was the family’s only earner after Diana left her nursing job last year to return home dur- ing the first wave of the pandemic. Diana is now hunting for work while looking after her father and her sister’s three-year-old son. (AP Photo/Yirmiyan Arthur, File) her sister’s three-year-old son. At her home in Imphal, Khumanthem grieved for her mother by remembering her favorite food — chagem pomba, a type of gruel made with vegetables, rice, and soybeans. Every few minutes, she looked toward the front gate. “This is usually the time Ranjita would return home from work,” she said. “I still keep thinking she could walk through the gate any moment now.” Back in New Delhi, Sharma sighed in relief as an ambulance brought his son home from the hospital late last month. Saurav needs physiotherapy to build up his weakened muscles, a daily nurse, and a long list of medications. It may be weeks before he will be able to stand on his own, and months before the ambitious lawyer who graduated among the top of his class will be able to go to court again. The costs will continue. “Our first priority was to save him,” Sharma said. “Now we will need to figure out the rest.” Associated Press journalist Yirmiyan Arthur contributed from Imphal. Curbside Pickup Order Online. Skip the Line. 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