THERE ARE SOME who see Beijing's 2003 SARS epidemic as comparable to Pearl Harbor. But in my view, as an attack on Beijing, this epidemic was far more cataclysmic.
No modern weapon could be as terrifying as an attack by an airborne virus.
In the fight against SARS, there were many decisive battles.
"Help me! Please, I don't want to die! I'm only 18, I've never even had a boyfriend! I want to live…"
A young lady went from the initial fever, to diagnosis, to death in no more than 50 hours. In her dying moments, she tugged at the doctor's arm with her frail hands. A desperate last grasp at survival. It was like a knife in the hearts of the doctors trying to save her. They couldn't bear to look.
There were seven in this girl's household. Three of them were killed by SARS within ten days. Now, every day, her mother kneels before the remains of her daughter, her husband, and her mother-in-law, offering tributes for the departed. The year before, she had revered Beijing, sending her daughter off to the capital to find work. And within a short time, the daughter had died, taking her father and grandmother with her. These days, grief-stricken and heartbroken, she bewails the city she once loved.
O, my Beijing, with your thousand years of glory, when have you ever suffered such humiliation?
And once you were so pure—a healthy, strong city.
You shouldn't suffer these unjust criticisms.
Beijing, you are innocent.
But you couldn't prevent such an unprecedented epidemic.
March 1st, 2003 - 301 Military Hospital
The Beijing sun shone brightly on the first day of spring. The tenth National People's Congress and the ninth People's Political Consultative Conference opened on the 5th and 3rd of March respectively, drawing widespread attention. The people of Beijing happily threw themselves into an extraordinary spring season. No one could have imagined that before the opening of the lianghui, the two major political congresses of the Chinese political system, SARS had already quietly infiltrated the capital.
March 1, 2003: a date that will go down in history. At 1 am, the famous People's Liberation Army General Hospital—also known as the 301 Military Hospital—had just welcomed its first case of SARS.
"We have an emergency case who wants to see a doctor, could you please help us?" A patient from Shanxi, accompanied by her husband, requested urgent assistance.
The doctor flicked through his diary. "Today's Saturday, we can't see you today. Best to come back on Monday." The doctor gave her a quick checkup, and said: "It's either that or we check you into the emergency ward."
"As long as we can stay here, that's fine." The patient's family was extremely grateful.
SARS had given the young woman a constant fever, so she was moved from the emergency ward to the Department of Respiratory Diseases.
"Darling, are you feeling ok? You'd better eat! You won't feel better if you don't eat something." Her mother watched the violent undulations of her daughter's chest, her heart burning. She was 56. Now, her body temperature had already reached 39 degrees Celsius.
Anxiously watching the conditions of his wife and mother-in-law, the husband called the doctor. "I think you should check my mother-in-law in too."
The doctor checked her temperature. "You're right, she's burning up. We'll take her in."
Dr. She Danyang was cautious. "The illness your family members have looks a lot like the one that appeared in Guangdong and Hong Kong. It's best we keep them in isolation for a while."
Soon after, the mother, already affected by SARS, was checked into another ward.
At the same time, the young woman's father had called from Shanxi to say he was running a fever, and had not improved after a few days on an IV in the hospital. He told his daughter, feverish in his sickbed, he wanted to come to Beijing for treatment too.
"Come quickly!" said his daughter, with her strength fading.
On the 5th of March, the father arrived in Beijing by plane, going straight to 302 Military Hospital. The whole family converged in Beijing—given the context, a frighteningly large clan. Aside from the young woman, there was her husband, her one-year-old son, her father, her mother, her grandmother, her younger brother, her sister-in-law, two brothers-in-law, her aunt, two colleagues from her company, and an uncle who worked in Beijing—14 people in total.
Now, one by one, other members of the family began to develop a fever. The woman's husband ran around frantically, discussing with doctors how to deal with the problem.
"We're not specialists in respiratory diseases at 301," said the doctor. "You're better off transferring to another hospital. The 302 Military Hospital is better at this than us."
That was fine with them. Her father was already in 302. They could look after the whole family better. The young woman's husband immediately called 120, Beijing's emergency number, to request an ambulance.
With the help of their relatives and friends, this family of SARS patients were helped into ambulances—some carried, some grasping the arms of relatives or friends—arriving at the 302 Military Hospital on March 6th. We now know that not long after their arrival, around a dozen 302 Military Hospital medical personnel were infected, becoming some of the first medical staff in Beijing to contract the disease. At the same time, due to the institution's prompt efforts to strike back at SARS, there emerged a group of fearless medics of the likes of Jiang Suchun.
On March 7th, the young woman's father suddenly passed away. He was the first casualty of Beijing's SARS epidemic.
