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Feeling bewildered and anxious, I left the room after receiving my first assignment amidst the outbreak of Covid-19. At that time, no one could fully imagine the level of danger or the severity that the pandemic would bring. But then, with the faith and dedication of a journalist, I told myself I had to move forward strongly, without hesitation or reluctance.
Undeterred by the new vaccine source and despite the confusing information circulating, I boldly took the lead in getting vaccinated to prevent the spread of the disease at that time. Photo: PHI LONG
Stepping into a quarantine zone for the first time, surrounded by the epidemic, the atmosphere was thick with fear and anxiety. The once bustling streets were eerily silent, shops closed, and gates shut, shielding the anxieties of the residents. I had entered quarantine zones many times, traversing sealed-off alleys and navigating through field hospitals, where the sound of each ambulance siren sent shivers down my spine. At that time, my thin protective suit was my only safeguard. I only managed to bring a voice recorder, a camera, a notebook, and my heart pounding with anxiety over the changing situation of the epidemic.
Then, during those long, drawn-out months of the pandemic, I often felt anxious and nervous, holding my breath while waiting for the test results. Then, somehow, with the experience I gained from working in the heart of the epidemic, I became the unit's "unwilling medical officer." While the medical staff were focusing their efforts on the front lines, I quietly held the test strips in the rear, meticulously performing the tests for my colleagues. Each time someone tested positive, my worries intensified – I worried about my colleagues and myself, because I had come into close contact with another source of infection.
Wearing restrictive protective suits, rain or shine, medical personnel go door-to-door to test people for Covid.
Due to social distancing, I sent my two children to stay with their maternal grandparents. Young children, elderly parents – all vulnerable groups, making my steps heavy each time I returned home. I didn't choose the front door, but went around to the back, where my mother, upon hearing the car arrive, always waited with clean clothes, hand sanitizer, and a fresh face towel. My father stood nearby, his eyes filled with both worry and quiet pride as he watched his daughter return after a day traversing the epicenter of the pandemic. A few hurried words of inquiry, a few words of advice: "Disinfect thoroughly before coming inside, okay? The children are waiting for you..." That's all it took for my nose to sting, my heart to ache, and even hugs during the pandemic became hesitant and reserved.
But amidst these difficulties, I understood that no one could stand aside. For my colleagues, for the community, and because the battle ahead was far from over, I chose to set aside my personal feelings and continue my work with all responsibility and faith, together we would overcome these stormy days.
When the Covid-19 pandemic intensified, meetings, inspections, and trips to the epicenter and quarantine zones became more frequent. There were urgent, unusual meetings that lasted past 11 pm, after which I would leave, hastily grabbing a box of sticky rice or sometimes a steamed bun to tide me over. Some nights I stayed awake almost all night waiting for instructions from the Provincial Party Committee to stay informed about the pandemic situation and decisions regarding lockdowns and quarantines in various areas.
Throughout nearly three years of participating in that "war without gunfire," I can't remember how many hotspots I passed, how many rapid tests I underwent, or how many exhausting hours I spent in the scorching sun wearing suffocating protective gear. I only remember the anxious glances, the choked-up tears of farewell at the quarantine barriers, and the relieved smiles when people knew they were safe.
These "temporary markets" were set up during the pandemic and social distancing periods to provide essential goods for people in quarantined areas and buffer zones. At that time, all consumer goods became precious.
During those times, I witnessed countless times the doctors in the field hospital struggling with each emergency case, where life and death were separated by only a thin breath. Amidst the sounds of ventilators and the cries of patients, sweat and tears silently streamed down the cheeks of these healthcare workers. It was in those tense moments that I broke down in tears, because human compassion still shone brightly.
Each meal, bottle of water, and bag of medicine from the hands of soldiers, youth union members, and student volunteers... was like a warm lamp in the dark night. Some had gone months without returning home, without seeing their children, only managing a few words over the phone, yet they remained steadfastly stationed at quarantine checkpoints and in treatment areas. They sacrificed their health, accepted the risk of infection, and even had to self-isolate... to keep the community safe.
And then, amidst the silent love, there were also unbearable losses, when a phone call announcing the death of a loved one became impossible due to distance, barriers, and strict pandemic regulations. There was no farewell hug, no incense offering. The pandemic has taken away so many sacred things that nothing can compensate for. But it was in this hardship that I understood more deeply the responsibility of a writer: to record and convey what is most authentic, so that in the future no one will forget the cruel moment when compassion shone so brightly.
Looking back on my journalistic journey amidst the pandemic, those were unforgettable months. It wasn't just about reporting; it was a time when I truly lived and breathed my profession. Amidst all the dangers, I learned what journalistic integrity means, what responsibility to society is, and what dedication to the community is. Being able to work during that critical time was both a sacred honor and a daunting test of my faith and love for the profession. And through it all, I understood that journalism is not just a job – it's a mission!
Hong Nhung
Source: https://baocamau.vn/su-menh-nguoi-cam-but-a39757.html
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