Chapter 7 — The Medicine Bearer Through the Chaos

Seventeen Families Have People Falling Sick

Ms. Khue's hunch turned out to be correct. Within ten days, the number of cases increased from five to twelve, then jumped to seventeen houses with sick people, spreading throughout Lach Dua village like an unstoppable oil spill. It's no longer just the families that used rice for relief - the disease is now spread through contact, through shared water, and even through the hands that take care of the sick and don't have time to wash them in the middle of a panic.

Mrs. Khue's house turned into a reluctant treatment station. The front yard, back yard, and entire porch are filled with mats for sick people to lie on. Because many families are afraid of infecting the remaining healthy people, they bring relatives to take care of them. Tinh Yen, now fifteen years old, has no time to be afraid or hesitate anymore - she works like a pre-programmed machine, her hands quickly mixing sugar and salt water, wiping her body to reduce fever, emptying bedpans, washing dirty mats and blankets, her eyes always glued to every sign of the patient's changes that she has taught her to pay attention to.

"If you have diarrhea with clear water like rice water, sunken eyes, wrinkled and dehydrated skin - tell her immediately, that's a critical sign." Mrs. Khue told her again and again, her voice hoarse from talking continuously for many days without stopping. "As long as you're still awake and able to drink water, continue to rehydrate regularly, don't interrupt even for half an hour."

The whole village seemed to be immersed in an endless nightmare. The sounds of crying and painful groans echoed throughout the alleys, mixed with the smell of smoke from burning leaves to fumigate the house according to folk custom, and the strong smell of decoction that never stopped. Mr. Tu Dien, even though he is over sixty, still personally goes from house to house to urge sanitation, instructing villagers to boil water before drinking, and to bury waste away from domestic water sources - disease prevention knowledge that Mrs. Khue passed on to him as soon as she realized the dangerously contagious nature of the disease.

Van, after the first night of high fever, thought he was over it, but five days later he became more seriously ill — this time with mild convulsions due to excessive dehydration and electrolytes, purple lips, and cold hands and feet even though he still had a fever. Tinh Yen almost never left her friend's bedside, despite Mrs. Khue repeatedly urging her to rest to preserve her strength to take care of other cases.

"You have to get better, do you hear Van?" He whispered in your ear while wiping your fever down, his voice hoarse from holding back tears for many days. "I still promise to teach you the difference between coriander and pennywort so you can remember, it's not over yet."

Van did not answer, just moaned softly in delirium, her eyes were closed, her face, which was originally round and rosy, was now sunken and scary pale. Tinh Yen held her friend's hand tightly, feeling each weak pulse under her fingertips that her grandmother had taught him how to catch, and for the first time in his life, he felt the extreme helplessness of a physician when standing before a boundary that knowledge and compassion are not enough to overcome.

Dang Van Kinh, now fifteen years old like Tinh Yen, tall and sturdy after years of sunbathing at sea, became Mr. Tu Dien's powerful arm in organizing epidemic prevention. He led a group of remaining young men in the village - those who were not drafted because they were underage or the family only had one son - to dig latrines far from water sources, build separate shacks to isolate seriously ill people from healthy family members, and boil giant pots of boiling water scattered around the village so that everyone had clean water to use.

"Tinh Yen, do you need more firewood? I just chopped a bunch." Kinh stopped by to ask while carrying two large bundles of firewood on his shoulders, sweating profusely but his eyes still maintained a rare steadfastness amid the general panic.

"Need, leave it in the kitchen for me." Tinh Yen replied, not raising her head because her hands were busy bandaging an ulcer from lying on a mat for an old man for a long time. "Thank you, Kinh. Without you and the others, the villagers would have suffered even more."

"What's so polite? It's our village, if we don't worry, who will?" Kinh scratched his head and smiled wryly, but his eyes glanced over the rows of mats full of sick people, feeling a little down. "I just wish my brother was at home right now. He's healthy and digs toilets much faster than me."

Tinh Yen didn't know what to say to comfort her, she just nodded slightly. Since the day Kinh's brother left, the village has not received any news, and in the tragic atmosphere surrounded by the epidemic, no one has the strength to ask more about those who have gone away.

Meanwhile, Ms. Khue wrote a letter to Thanh Duong government, clearly stating the epidemic situation and questioning the origin of the rice relief batch, pleading with the government to send doctors and medicine to support, and to re-investigate the distributed food batch. Mr. Tu Dien personally rode the oldest mule in the village, traveling half a day to carry the mail, bringing with him the last hope of a village sinking in despair.

Four days later, Mr. Tu Dien returned alone, with a haggard face, bringing with him an answer that left the whole village dumbfounded.

"The government said... said it would consider it." He sighed, his voice filled with bitterness. "Saying summer epidemics are a normal thing, advising people to maintain hygiene and boil drinking water. As for the batch of rice, the mandarin said he had checked the warehouse and found no problems. Perhaps Mrs. Khue's suspicion was a bit too much."

"No problem?" Tinh Yen burst out, unable to hold back the anger that welled up in her heart for the first time in her life against a force it couldn't touch and couldn't shake. "Seventeen families fall ill and say it's normal?"

"Child." Mrs. Khue placed her hand on her grandson's shoulder, her voice lowered, although her eyes also contained an equally disappointing look. "She had already anticipated this. The rice warehouse had already been sold out. When she checked the warehouse, there was only new rice left. How could she find traces of the old batch of rice that had been eaten a long time ago? The government didn't lie completely - it's just that they didn't want to find the truth, because once they find it, they have to take responsibility."

"So what should I do now? With no medicine, no support, am I just going to have to fight on my own?"

"That's right, my child. We'll fend for ourselves, like we always have." Ms. Khue looked out at the yard, where dozens of sick people were still lying on mats, some had shown signs of improvement thanks to days of persistent treatment, others were still fighting for life every hour. "But remember this - just because no one comes to save you doesn't mean you give up. It's when no one comes that people need your hand the most."

Ms. Sau Muoi, Ms. Khue's old friend, was also present during those days, even though she was old and her hands were no longer agile enough to pick up medicine. She took on odd but necessary tasks - cooking thin porridge to give to patients who had just recovered from critical illness, washing hundreds of mats, and comforting children who were frightened when they saw their parents lying motionless. One night, she sat by the fire cooking porridge, watching Tinh Yen rush back and forth between the rows of mats, softly complaining to Mrs. Khue.

"This girl is still so young but she carries so much burden, Ms. Khue. I look at her and feel sorry for her."

"He's my nephew, this bloodline has to bear the burden." Ms. Khue replied, her voice was both a bit bitter and a bit proud mixed in unclearly. "I just hope he can carry as much as he can, don't let the burden break his back before he can grow up."

Even though Tinh Yen did not hear those words directly, later when she remembered that time, she still wondered if her grandmother was afraid for her own health at that time, or simply worried about the only remaining grandchild of the family.

Those words seemed to give Tinh Yen strength, even though her legs were tired after many days of not getting enough sleep, even though her hands were calloused from constantly washing and preparing medicine. He returned to work, continuing to wipe the body, give water, and change mats for each patient, trying not to let his mind wander to think about the worst possibility that could happen to Van.

That night, when the whole village fell into a troubled sleep, Tinh Yen sat alone beside Van's bed, her hand still not leaving her friend's. The oil lamp in Mrs. Khue's house has now become the only light that is still awake with the pain of the whole village, filtering through the door, casting shadows of people taking care of patients on the ground wall, flickering like ghosts refusing to rest.

"Grandma." He called out softly, when he saw Mrs. Khue still diligently pounding the medicine under the light even though it was very late. "You should rest a bit, I see you've lost a lot of weight these past few days."

Ms. Khue looked up, smiling tiredly but still determined. "You can rest anytime, my child. This medicine isn't finished yet, tomorrow morning there will be dozens more people who need it."

Tinh Yen looked at her, a new worry arose in her heart that she had not dared to put into words - the worry that the person who was carrying the whole village on her thin shoulders would one day be so exhausted that she could no longer stand up. But that night, he put that worry aside, just quietly stood up, brought another kettle of water to her, then sat down, and with her continued to pound each mortar under the light of an oil lamp that never went out.