[YONHAP] At the forefront: fear and heartbreak

By Hyun Tae KIM

It was Feb. 18, 2020. Daegu, a city of 2.5 million people, confirmed "Patient No. 31" of COVID-19, the first case for the city and the connected Gyeongsang Province that makes up South Korea's southeast. Starting the very next day, the caseload in Daegu grew in leaps and bounds. It was the beginning of a perilous crisis. The vibrant city some 300 kilometers from Seoul became the epicenter of the deadly virus after revelations of a shady religious cult and its elbow-to-elbow prayer services. Shops were shuttered. Hospital emergency rooms were forced to close for the quarantine. No one ventured out onto the streets. The entire city turned silent, except for the sirens of ambulances. It didn't take long for Daegu to become a ghost city. Yonhap's reporters in Daegu, 21 of us including myself and colleagues who came to help from the Seoul headquarters, wasted no time in getting to work. We had news to cover. Our group chat rooms showed hundreds of messages checking for new developments. I remember asking about a dying elderly man while in self-quarantine. Meanwhile, my colleague was busy on a story of mass infections at a facility for the disabled. It was endless. We all worked with the risk of getting infected ourselves. Cheongdo Daenam Hospital was a major site of the virus outbreak. We made sure to spray ourselves with disinfectants after each stop there to cover the news. What made our work devastating, however, were the deaths and heartbroken people all around us. Myeongbok is the only crematorium in Daegu. At 5 p.m., when the "normal" business hours end, cremations of those who died from the virus began. Staff members covered from head to toe in protective gear brought in bodies in tightly sealed bags. Because of COVID-19, the deceased were cremated before the funeral. Only the closest family members wearing required protective equipment were allowed to witness the cremation. They were the lucky ones. A deceased woman in her 80s was brought in on March 26. None of her five children could see her off. They were all in mandatory self-isolation because of their physical contact with their mother. I live with my parents, who are in their 80s. They have health conditions, putting them at a higher risk of infection. I had to take extreme precautions -- no eating together, no face-to-face conversation. I showered a minimum of twice a day. I stayed in a closed-off space when I was home. On days when I was heavily exposed to risky conditions, I slept in my car. I have never kept myself this clean before. The damage from COVID-19 in Daegu is unfathomable. As of May 5, the number of infected patients in Daegu accounts for nearly 65 percent of the country's total. The number of deaths is close to 70 percent of the total. We don't even dare talk about the city's economic recovery. It has been nearly three months since Patient No. 31 was identified. I have been fortunate. My family and I have been able to avoid the virus so far. We are hopeful that we are at the end of the tunnel. It's another day. I wake up at dawn and pack my daily things for work -- face masks, goggles, gloves and hand sanitizer. Like every other day, I pray that the COVID-19 crisis will end in South Korea, and in all countries. Empty streets Streets of downtown in Daegu, a city some 300 kilometers southeast of Seoul, are virtually empty at 6:40 p.m. on Feb. 24, 2020. Evenings at the city's downtown normally bustle with people and cars, but most of the shops and restaurants suspended business or closed early from fears of fast-spreading new coronavirus. (Yonhap) Quarantine operation Personnel from the Army disinfect the streets near Dongdaegu train station in Daegu on Feb. 29, 2020, in a quarantine operation against the new coronavirus. (Yonhap) Hollow city A young man stands out on starkly hollow streets of downtown Daegu on Feb. 20, 2020. People of the city stayed in their homes as the number of confirmed patients of COVID-19 surged in Daegu. (Yonhap)