Editor: <\/strong>Bella_Z<\/p>\n\n\n\nYou could always tell whether Father was happy by the way that he ate. When he was in a good mood, he would contentedly smack his lips, lift his head slightly, and chew vigorously. When he was in a bad mood, he would hurriedly toss food into his mouth, as if at any moment someone may come along and snatch the food from his hands. At breakfast that morning, Father was hurriedly gulping down his food. Something was wrong. I gently tapped his hand. \u201cDad, don\u2019t eat so fast,\u201d I warned. He gave me a quick glance and then began to eat even more quickly. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
Mother also took notice of Father\u2019s mood. \u201cWhat\u2019s the matter?\u201d she asked him.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Father answered quietly: \u201cThe insulin is all used up.\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cWell then go buy some more!\u201d Mother said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Father stopped eating and put down his chopsticks. \u201cAnd how am I supposed to buy it? The bus stopped running, the roads are barricaded, and the path downtown is all blocked up. Even if I made it there, there\u2019s no telling whether the pharmacy is open.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cLet\u2019s just head into town and check things out. You can\u2019t stop taking your insulin.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Hoping that our face masks would offer us some safety, we prepared to ride out in our auto-rickshaw. Mother had set down a bench in the bed of the rickshaw for me to sit on. I had wanted to drive and let Father sit in the back, but Mother did not like the idea: \u201cWhat do you know about driving? Let your dad do it.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Father agreed. \u201cYou drive like a bat out of hell. Let me do it.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Having finished his piece, Father took his place at the handlebars. As soon as we began to drive off, Mother began to shout at us. Father stopped the rickshaw, and Mother walked over. She looked to me and said, \u201cIt would be better if you didn\u2019t go. People in town are already getting sick. I\u2019ve finished washing dishes. Let me go with your dad.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I contested, \u201cThat\u2019s not a good idea. What if the pharmacy isn\u2019t letting people inside? If we need to call to speak with the pharmacist, I\u2019ll need to take care of it. And if they\u2019ve put up signs somewhere, then Dad won\u2019t be able to read them. What would happen if there\u2019s no one there to help him?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Mother hesitated and thought things over. Nodding, she agreed, \u201cYou\u2019re right. You all be careful, you hear me? Don\u2019t go anywhere near crowded places. If you see another person, keep your distance.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cI hear you,\u201d I said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
We drove from our settlement\u2019s paved roads right up to the banks of the Yangtze River. The sky was gray and gloomy, and the cold wind put a shiver down my spine. I buried my hands down into my pockets to stay warm. I looked over at Father. Though the cold had turned his ears red, he stayed hunched over in concentration, fixed on his driving. I often complained that he drove too slowly–\u201d I could walk faster than you drive!\u201d I might say. He\u2019d laugh in reply: \u201cSlow and steady\u2019s best.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
One time, as Father drove my mother down the river bank, he lost control of the vehicle. In the confusion of the moment, he stuck out his leg to slow the rickshaw. The vehicle flipped over, injuring both my parents. Luckily, some passersby were able to help get them to the hospital. My parents only told me about the incident much later. When I\u2019m not home, they only share their good news with me, quietly shouldering the bad news on their own.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
While I was lost in thought, Father said something that I couldn\u2019t quite hear over the wind\u2019s howls. I asked him to repeat himself. He said, \u201cI am afraid you won\u2019t be heading back to Beijing soon.\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n
I answered him loudly, \u201cYeah, our company won\u2019t be opening the office for a while.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Laughing, he said, \u201cThis is the first time in years you\u2019ve stayed at home for this long!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
On reaching Bayi dam, we found that there was no way to drive across. A tall mound of dirt had been piled across the middle of the dam–not even a motor scooter would have been able to drive around it. We took a look around to see if there were any other viable routes, but all of the other roads had been barricaded by wire netting. Our only option would be to park the rickshaw.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Father passed me the car keys and said, \u201cYou stay here with the rickshaw. I\u2019ll walk the rest of the way.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cNo,\u201d I said. \u201cYou stay here, and I\u2019ll go get your medicine.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cYou don\u2019t know how my medicine works,\u201d he protested. \u201cI\u2019m the only one who knows what to get. You stay here.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
As Father began to walk around the blockage, I called after him: \u201cI\u2019m going with you.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
He turned around to glance at me as he kept moving forward. \u201cIt\u2019s not far away. You go ahead and find a spot that will keep you out of the wind. Rest for a bit.\u201d Without waiting for a response, he turned back around and continued to slowly march forward.<\/p>\n\n\n\nFather had me stay and watch over the rickshaw. He maneuvered around the mound of dirt by himself and then slowly headed towards town.<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n\n\n\nAfter waiting for two and a half hours, I had nearly been frozen from head to toe by the wind coming off the river. I couldn\u2019t help but start sneezing from the cold. (Luckily, there was no one around to hear, or I would have scared them to death.) Village announcements instructed us to \u201cstay at home and take care,\u201d but how on earth were we to take care? Father\u2019s insulin was used up, we had no way of getting to downtown Wuxue, and even the nearby township was hard to get to.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
With so many blocked off streets and towns, obtaining medicine has become quite difficult for those with chronic illnesses, such as my father. Those who need hospital visits to receive treatment face even more hurdles. In times such as these, invisible struggles are felt all around us. Those struggling often have no way of making their voices heard; their only option is to quietly accept their lot.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I walked back and forth along the riverbank, trying to keep from going numb with cold. Eventually, I resorted to stomping my feet and blowing warm air on my hands. Nearly three hours had passed by the time I spotted my father slowly working his way along the road. As soon as I saw his lifeless trudge of a gait, I knew for certain that he had not been able to get his medicine.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
As he climbed up to the dam, he quickly began to lose his breath. Plodding through the thick mud, he struggled with each step to keep lifting his legs. I hurried over to him and placed his arm around my shoulders to help him along. By then, his armpits were soaked with sweat. I asked him how things went. He shook his head in response, and said, \u201cAll the pharmacies are closed. No one\u2019s answering the phone. The streets are empty. Loudspeakers all around town are blaring about the epidemic.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\nI\u2019ll never forget the way he walked. The pain of this memory is unending.<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n\n\n\n\u201cI\u2019ll think of something,\u201d I told him. \u201cDon\u2019t worry.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Father gave no answer. He continued to wheeze, still out of breath. I let him sit in the back of the rickshaw this time, and took my place at the handlebars. He did not oppose it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
When we arrived back at the house, Mother hurried out to meet us. As soon as she saw the befallen look on Father\u2019s face, she knew what had happened. Without speaking, she and I helped Father down from the rickshaw and brought him into the house to rest. Later on, I heard that insulin could be purchased from the hospital, though it wouldn\u2019t be covered by my father\u2019s social security. Nonetheless, I breathed a sigh of relief that there was indeed a way to buy the insulin (and we did eventually buy it).<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Father protested still as he lay in bed: \u201cNo way! We\u2019d have to pay through the nose.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cIt\u2019s not that expensive,\u201d I said. \u201cDon\u2019t worry about it.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Father sighed, \u201cI don’t make money now. I\u2019ve only got you and your brother to help make ends meet.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cDon\u2019t overthink. Just take good care of your body,\u201d I told him.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Father did not speak another word. In an instant, he was sound asleep, snoring softly.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
25 April 2020|Residents The original author, Anqing Deng is a writer based in Beijing who went back to his hometown in Hubei to celebrate Chinese New Year with his family. Living in the countryside of Hubei province during the unexpected lockdown, he wrote about things to be appreciated and to be overcome amid the difficult… <\/p>\n
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![\"Father](\"https:\/\/img1.wsimg.com\/isteam\/ip\/d03d262a-7ab8-4b23-9788-80a9fdfc2ffa\/pasted%20image%200%20(25).png\/:\/cr=t:0%25,l:0%25,w:100%25,h:100%25\/rs=w:1280\" "\\"Father")
![\"I\u2019ll](\"https:\/\/img1.wsimg.com\/isteam\/ip\/d03d262a-7ab8-4b23-9788-80a9fdfc2ffa\/pasted%20image%200%20(26).png\/:\/cr=t:0%25,l:0%25,w:100%25,h:100%25\/rs=w:1280\" "\\"I\u2019ll")