DEYANG, CHINA — Thousands of patients are being moved from overloaded hospitals in China's earthquake zone to neighboring provinces in an effort to ease the medical crunch as attention shifts from rescuing survivors to caring for the injured and preventing epidemics.
Premier Wen Jiabao said Saturday in the town of Yingxiu that 10,000 medical workers have been dispatched to the quake-hit area to stop the spread of disease. At his side, U.N. Secretary-General Ban Ki-moon pledged support for reconstruction.
All vehicles leaving the earthquake area are being sprayed with disinfectant at tollbooths and intersections.
The government suggested Saturday that the death toll could soar past 80,000, and the Health Ministry has reported that 300,000 people had been injured. Just half of the 59,394 who needed hospital treatment had been discharged as of Wednesday, the ministry said, leaving many wards in hard-hit Sichuan province overcrowded. Long convoys of ambulances can be seen on highways leading out of the quake zone.
At the Deyang People's Hospital No. 2, once-peaceful gardens meant to soothe convalescent patients are a sea of tents. The lawn has been stabbed with steel pipes and covered with plastic sheeting to create makeshift shelters as victims keep pouring in.
The manicured hedges double as clothes racks and drying platforms. Blankets are draped on statues to air. A row of attached blue plastic seats serves as an impromptu pharmacy. A vehicle shed is now a recovery room. Nearby, five blue emergency tents and a large military camouflage unit have become an outpatient ward.
Wang Xiaohong's leg was crushed when her house collapsed. The 23-year-old is two months pregnant and the fetus is injured. Her husband touches her leg lovingly. "We'll accept the doctor's advice and have an abortion," says Jiang Donghai, a 24-year-old factory worker, sitting on his wife's bed. "It's devastating to have the earthquake take our baby."
The couple got married just two days before the earthquake. She had quit her job, their house was destroyed, and now they've lost their baby. "But there's a nice open window there with sunshine and fresh air," he says. "And we feel lucky to be alive."
Yi Birong, 71, a retiree, sits in a corner with a gaggle of relatives and friends. His arm is in a splint made from wooden debris, his neck is strained and he has several bruises. But he's smiling and joking.
