Early on the morning of May 4, Wuhan Railway Central Hospital
received an emergency notice from Beijing: a suspected SARS patient
with a fever of 39 degrees centigrade left an isolation ward
without permission and was thought to be on the T79 train from
Beijing to Wuchang. Nurse Ouyang Qin, 18, was woken up and asked to
help find the person on the train. This is her story.
Frankly speaking, I was extremely nervous when I was given the task
at first. It had been less than six months since I had graduated
from nursing school. The age of eighteen is just a flower season in
my life. But even though I am not a veteran medical worker, I do
know what SARS means.
To
find the suspected patient amongst hundreds of travelers on the
train was like searching for a "time bomb" as I knew I might be
infected and isolated at any time. For me loneliness is the most
horrible thing. If I was isolated, my mother would be terrified
within an inch of her life because I am her only daughter.
Travelers took their children and packages and rushed onto the
train coaches at 7:20 am. I discarded all my worries and
distracting thoughts as it was so dangerous that the suspected
patient could be among the crowd. But since I was there, I wanted
to be realistic. I searched several areas together with the train
operator, hoping to find the patient before the train left the
station.
I
had no time to rest. After a time, my isolation clothes and gauze
mask were soaked with sweat. My legs ached from walking. However we
had yet to find the patient. I felt unbearable thirsty. So I went
back to the rest coach and tore off my gauze mask, and drank a
glass of water in one. I got a feeling that I have never had
before: water is the best drink in the world!
It
seemed that we failed to find the patient before the train started
its engine. But everybody kept their chin up. I had only one
thought in my mind: find him as soon as possible and no more SARS
infection.
The train moved off at 8:05 am. We started our second search.
According to the notice, the patient was 55 years old. So we kept
close eye on male travelers above 40. I started at the end of the
train and, coach by coach, observed every traveler carefully. Most
of them wore gauze masks and some had closed their eyes and dozed
off. It was hard to tell their age or if they were ill from their
faces.
I
walked very slowly in the narrow passageway between the passengers
and their luggage, examining their tickets and certificates and
registering their information.
You might never know it but the suspected patient was probably
among them. Despite the face-to-face contact, I tried to suppress
my fear and remain relaxed as so many travelers looked at me in my
white isolation clothes; amongst which I noticed a little baby with
innocent eyes in the arms of a middle-aged woman.
I
knew that I was carrying out an important task which had a great
deal to do with hundreds of people's health and safety.
About three or four hours passed with no result. We had basically
ruled out the possibility of the existence of the suspected patient
on the train and reported this to higher authorities. After a spell
of emergency observation, I was tired and longed to sleep.
The train operator got an emergency message at 11:50 am that there
was a patient with a fever and cough on the train from Handan
Station and was due to get off at Anyang Station. That meant we had
only one hour to find the traveler.
To
be honest, I was on the edge of a nervous breakdown at that time.
How could an emergency situation happen twice on the same train and
both be dealt with by me?
While I noticed the train operator and my colleagues discussing
their plan and preparing for the next observation, I realized I was
weak-willed.
Without hesitation, I put on my isolation clothes, wore my gauze
mask, and went back into the traveler coach.
This time, it only took us a little while to find the patient in
No. 16 coach. We took his temperature and inquired about his
contact experience on the one hand, and explained to the travelers
not to be panic on the other. Soon we applied the necessary
measures to the patient as well as those who had had close contact
with him. The travelers then calmed down.
The train stopped at Anyang Station. The station had been closed
and there were three ambulances parked at the platform. Medical
workers were waiting for us.
Suddenly I realized that everyone in the battle against SARS was
really trying their best. The most horrible thing, to me, is not
SARS itself but the attitude of retreat and abjuration that has
accompanied the disaster. After this incident, I really understood
a simple principle: victory only comes from self-confidence and
sustained effort.
On
the second day after returning to Wuhan, I didn't go home but went
on the train to Beijing again to provide medical service. This
time, I felt lighter and easier
(China.org.cn translated by Li Xiao, May 22, 2003)