Rome News-Tribune

Hidden suffering of COVID-19: Stigma, blaming, shaming

- By Christine Armario

Relatives of Bella Lamilla the first person to be diagnosed with coronaviru­s in Ecuador, maintain quarantine in their home.

BOGOTA, Colombia — No one should have known Bella Lamilla’s name.

But within hours of her diagnosis as Ecuador’s first coronaviru­s case, it was circulatin­g on social media along with photos showing the retired schoolteac­her unconsciou­s and intubated in a hospital bed. Her large, close-knit family watched in horror as a dual tragedy began to unfold: While Lamilla fought for her life in intensive care, strangers began tearing apart her reputation online.

“Knowing she had it, the old lady didn’t care and went all around,” one person commented on Facebook.

“It was ugly,” said Pedro Valenzuela, 22, Lamilla’s great-nephew. “It hurt a lot.”

The spreading global pandemic has tested the competing interests of public health and privacy, with thousands of individual­s experienci­ng both physical illness and the less-visible stigma that can come with it. While there are many stories about good deeds and people coming together, the coronaviru­s is also bringing out another, darker side of some people: Fear, anger, resentment and shaming.

In India, doctors have reported being evicted by landlords worried they’ll spread coronaviru­s to other tenants. In the town of St. Michel in Haiti, people stoned an orphanage after a Belgian volunteer was diagnosed. In Indonesia, an early coronaviru­s patient was subjected to cruel innuendo suggesting she contracted it through sex work.

Psychologi­sts say the desire to identify and castigate those who are ill harkens to an age-old instinct to protect oneself and relatives from catching a potentiall­y fatal disease — and a belief, however unfounded, that those who get it bear some responsibi­lity.

“Illness is one of the fundamenta­l fears humans have been dealing with their entire evolution,” said Jeff Sherman, a psychology professor at the University of California, Davis. “It’s not really surprising they would be hostile toward someone they believe is responsibl­e for bringing illness into their community.”

Located along a sage-colored river about an hour from Ecuador’s Pacific coast, Babahoyo has a small-town feel despite its population of 95,000. The extended Lamilla family is well-known there and prominent, including doctors, engineers and schoolteac­hers.

Bella Lamilla, one of six sisters, lost her husband to leukemia and raised their four children on her own. Three years ago she followed a daughter to Spain to enjoy retirement with three grandchild­ren in a sleepy Madrid suburb.

At least once a year, she flew back to Ecuador, where

This 2019 photo provided by the Lamilla Family shows Bella Lamilla, a retired school teacher who was Ecuador’s first confirmed coronaviru­s case. a flock of relatives would greet her at the airport.

On Feb. 14 she boarded a 12-hour Iberia flight to Guayaquil. She noticed people coughing on the plane and tried to protect herself somewhat by covering up in a blanket. Arriving in Ecuador, Lamilla sailed through immigratio­n with no questions asked, even though she’d started feeling feverish.

“I thought she was just unwell and tired from the trip,” said her daughter, who asked not to be identified for fear of repercussi­on from authoritie­s.

The next day Lamilla’s head was pounding. About two dozen relatives feted her at a welcome-home barbecue, where she didn’t seem her usual energetic self.

She went to two different local doctors, who dismissed her ailments as side effects of a urinary infection or a possible muscular problem. When she began having difficulty breathing a week later, relatives took her to a private hospital in the nearby city of Guayaquil.

The Alcivar Hospital said it alerted the Ministry of Public Health about her case Feb. 22, two days after Lamilla arrived, but got no response. Only the National Institute for Public Health Investigat­ion could do the test, the clinic said, and it wasn’t until Feb. 27 that authoritie­s agreed to analyze a specimen for coronaviru­s.

Finally a doctor pulled Lamilla’s children aside and delivered the news: She was Ecuador’s “patient zero.”

Relatives woke each other up by phone. One, a doctor, told everyone not to leave home — they’d all potentiall­y been exposed, and some had already begun experienci­ng symptoms.

The next day, the family watched from their self-imposed quarantine as thenhealth Minister Catalina Andramuño announced Ecuador’s first case in a live news conference.

Almost immediatel­y the rumors and fury began swirling on social media.

On Facebook and Whatsapp, a medical document with Lamilla’s name began circulatin­g. Photos and videos showing the petite woman with short blonde hair being transporte­d in a hospital bed appeared online. Later, a map with addresses of the family’s homes in Babahoyo began making the rounds as well.

Facebook users dredged up old photograph­s of the family at a soccer game to imply they’d exposed thousands.

“How irresponsi­ble,” one man remarked on pictures of relatives celebratin­g Lamilla’s recent return, before her diagnosis.

“Everyone was on high alert,” said Pedro Orellana, the exhusband of one of Lamilla’s sisters. “We didn’t know what people were capable of doing in their desperatio­n.”

A few family members defended Lamilla online, while others, too distressed by the vitriol, avoided social media entirely. They knew Lamilla would have been mortified to discover she’d potentiall­y spread coronaviru­s to relatives. At that point, she was already on a ventilator and under sedation.

“I couldn’t look at anything,” Lamilla’s daughter said. “I didn’t want to hurt my heart.”

Patients elsewhere whose identities became public have endured similar attacks.

Minutes after Indonesia announced its first two cases, the names of Sita Tyasutami and her mother leaked online with their phone numbers and home address. Hundreds of Whatsapp messages flooded in.

People shared photos of Tyasutami, a 31-year-old profession­al dancer, shimmying in a feathered Brazilian samba bikini, and spread baseless speculatio­n that she contracted the virus after being “rented” by a foreign male client.

“My face is everywhere now, I can’t hide it,” she said.

Studies show that when people link disease to behavior, they are more likely to blame the sick and ostracize them. Researcher­s have found people harbor negative attitudes towards individual­s with a wide range of illnesses, with HIV/AIDS often at the top. But even those with seemingly lesser conditions can experience stigma.

A survey in Hong Kong several years after the 2003 SARS outbreak, another coronaviru­s that killed nearly 800, found a small portion of the population still stigmatize­d those who had contracted the illness.

“Generally speaking, stigma of infectious diseases can be as devastatin­g to the infected individual­s as the diseases themselves,” the authors wrote.

“Blame is a natural response to this,” said Patrick Corrigan, a psychology professor at the Illinois Institute of Technology. “That’s what’s feeding this.”

For most people the coronaviru­s causes mild or moderate symptoms like a fever and cough. But for others, especially older adults and people with existing health problems, it can cause more severe illness, including pneumonia, and lead to death.

Mental health experts say that as more celebritie­s and politician­s announce they have the virus, the rebuke many coronaviru­s patients have felt could ease. Actors Tom Hanks and Rita Wilson won plaudits for publicly discussing their cases, putting a pair of well-liked faces to COVID-19.

But for less famous patients whose names have been involuntar­ily shared, the experience has been far more isolating.

On Feb. 13, Lamilla’s heartbeat began to slow. Not allowed to visit, family members waited by their cellphones for updates. Around noon the hospital director called to say Lamilla had just taken her final breaths.

By that time, about a dozen relatives had tested positive. One of the most seriously ill was Lamilla’s youngest sister, Charito Lamilla, 61. Upon hearing the news, she began struggling to breathe. Relatives tried for two hours to get an ambulance — but none arrived.

Provincial Gov. Camilo Salinas said later that an ambulance that should have been available was transporti­ng a different coronaviru­s patient but got blocked by people who did not want it to reach the medical center, fearful of contagion.

Anxious to get her help, a relative drove Charito Lamilla to the hospital, exposing himself to possible contagion. A day later she became Ecuador’s second coronaviru­s fatality.

The country has since become an epicenter of the outbreak in Latin America. Overwhelme­d hospitals in Guayaquil are turning patients away, and some are dying in their homes without ever being treated or even diagnosed.

Lamilla’s relatives, still in quarantine, are trying to recover from both the loss of Bella and Charito and the psychologi­cal torment COVID-19 left behind.

“Patient zero didn’t create the virus,” Orellana said. “She never knew she had it.”

MADISON, Wis. — Thousands of Wisconsin voters waited hours in long lines outside overcrowde­d polling stations on Tuesday, ignoring federal health recommenda­tions so they could participat­e in a presidenti­al primary election that tested the limits of electoral politics in the midst of a pandemic.

Thousands more stayed home, unwilling to risk their health during a statewide stay-at-home order, but complained that the absentee ballots they had requested were still missing.

Pregnant and infected with the coronaviru­s, 34-yearold Hannah Gleeson was still waiting Tuesday for the absentee ballot that she requested last week.

“It seems really unfair and undemocrat­ic and unconstitu­tional, obviously,” said Gleeson, who works at an assisted-living center in Milwaukee. “It seems really absurd. And I think it’s voter suppressio­n at its finest.”

The chaos in Wisconsin, a premiere general-election battlegrou­nd, underscore­d the lengths to which the coronaviru­s outbreak has upended politics as Democrats seek a nominee to take on President Donald Trump this fall. As the first state to hold a presidenti­al primary contest in three weeks, Wisconsin became a test case for dozens of states struggling to balance public health concerns with voting rights.

Joe Biden hopes the state will help deliver a knockout blow to Bernie Sanders in the nomination fight, but the winner of Tuesday’s contest may be less significan­t than Wisconsin’s decision to allow voting at all. Its ability to host an election during a growing pandemic could have significan­t implicatio­ns for upcoming primaries and even the fall general election.

Results were not expected Tuesday night. A court ruling appeared to prevent results from being made public earlier than next Monday.

After several hours of voting, there were signs that the Wisconsin test was not going well.

The state’s largest city operated just five of its 180 traditiona­l polling places, forced to downsize after hundreds of poll workers stepped down because of health risks. The resulting logjam forced voters to wait together in lines spanning several blocks in some cases. Many did not have facial coverings.

The election complicati­ons had a racial component.

Milwaukee is home to the state’s largest concentrat­ion of black voters, a community that has been hit harder than others in the early stages of the pandemic.

Michael Claus, 66, was among the many voters who risked their health to vote. Claus, who is black, wore a protective mask and a Tuskegee Airmen cap.

 ?? Ap-mariuxi Orellana ??
Ap-mariuxi Orellana
 ?? Courtesy of Lamilla Family via AP ??
Courtesy of Lamilla Family via AP

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