Test, Trace, Treat
Welcome to my random musings about the world, on a weekly-to-occasional basis.
Where we are: Back in Seoul, South Korea
Test, Trace, Treat
I’ve gotten several questions recently from friends, worrying that the pandemic is picking up again in South Korea. Apparently there’ve been headlines in the west indicating that the case numbers here are ticking up again.
Well, yes and no. I think it’s probably a matter of perspective.
Today’s statistics:
12,003 cases total
277 deaths
56 cases today (Friday)
[Population of South Korea: a little over 51 million]
Yes, there have been more cases in recent weeks than there were in late April/early May. Has that impacted our activities or movement in any way? Nope. As far as we can tell, the control measures here are working exactly as they’re intended to.
Some of those questions, though, made me realize that not everyone reads news about the virus’s progress around the globe quite as obsessively as I do, so I thought this would be a good time to share my observations/experience about what South Korea is doing. We’ve found it enlightening; I hope you do as well.
Quarantine (or, How South Korea is Stopping Transmission from Other Countries):
You already know, if you’ve been reading my emails, that Lee and I were quarantined for two weeks when we arrived in the country. Our isolation really began with an email we received when we booked our plane tickets: we’d need to wear masks and social distance from the moment we arrived at the airport and throughout the flight. From the time we landed, everyone we encountered assumed we were contagious and behaved accordingly—in other words, everyone was dressed in PPE, head-to-toe. Our temperature was checked and recorded several times. They tested our phone numbers to make sure we could be contacted. We had to download a public health app and demonstrate that it was working. We were kept in a well-supervised area, away from the general public. There was hand sanitizer at every stop.
Eventually, we were put on a private bus, with a police officer on board to supervise, and sent off to the quarantine facility. I’ve already described that, so I won’t go into detail, except to say that the goal was to ensure that if we developed symptoms of the illness during out time there, we wouldn’t be able to spread it to anyone else. At one point while we were there, an ambulance came, so we assume someone had gotten sick and been transported to a treatment center.
When our requisite quarantine period ended, another bus dropped us off in the center of Seoul (yes, it felt like liberation, but honestly, being released into a fully-functioning, busy city after so much isolation was a bit of sensory overload).
We’ve now been out of quarantine for a month, and have been reading up on South Korea’s pandemic response, as well as paying close attention to what we see around us.
The ‘New’ Normal (or, how South Korea is Managing Community Transmission):
Everything Lee and I want to do here is business-as-usual. We go to fantastic hipster coffee shops, we utilize the excellent transit system, we buy cheese in the fancy (and crowded) food halls. We thought about going to the theatre (Phantom of the Opera has managed to stay open with only a three-week break), and we still might. Touristy things like temples and parks and museums are open. We don’t feel any particular tension when we’re out and about.
This is all made possible by South Korea’s much-vaunted system of tracking and tracing. For those of you who aren’t entirely clear on what that means, I’ll use the fictional example that helped me understand.
Lee and I are staying in a hotel, where our room is cleaned by the housekeeping staff every day. If one of the housekeepers gets sick, she will get tested (tests are widely available, convenient, free, fast, and highly encouraged).
If she tests positive, contact tracers will interview her, and supplement whatever information she gives them with the extraordinary detail they can uncover using big data—What time did she ride the metro to work? Which car was she on? Was she wearing a mask? Who else was on the car at the same time, who was sitting near her, who was or wasn’t wearing a mask? Did she stop off at a convenience store on the way? Did she drop off a kid at school?
All of the people she crossed paths with, who might have been infected, will be contacted, and told to a) get tested, and b) self-isolate for 14 days.
Additionally, public service alerts will go out to everyone in the relevant districts, with information regarding who might be at risk—we get alerts on our phones every day, saying, basically, ‘a person at such-and-such building at this date-and-time has tested positive; if you were there, please contact your public health center.’
Because our housekeeper was in our room, we will also be contacted, and told to get tested and self-isolate for 14 days.
If you’re following along and doing the math on this, you’ll realize two things.
A) We are at some risk of being quarantined again, at any moment. I didn’t fully process this until we were well into our initial quarantine, so since our release, I’ve been careful to always have a minimal supply of teabags and chocolate on hand, just in case. I like to be prepared.
B) At any given time, there are a LOT of people here who are self-isolating. What does this mean? Well, we haven’t had to do it (yet), but from what we understand, it means you are required to stay home. Local health officials check in with you twice a day to ensure that you are following the rules, to find out if you have developed symptoms, and to see if you need anything. I believe everyone gets a basic supply package, including a thermometer, some food, disinfecting supplies, and masks.
Our (fictional) housekeeper will be isolated in the hospital until she recovers (and she very likely will—as of this writing, the death toll here is 277).
So here’s what we see when we’re out:
Temperature checks are common, but not ubiquitous.
Masks, which are inexpensive and widely available, are required (and enforced) on the transit system.
Most people wear masks whenever they’re in public—on the street, in stores, at work.
Public messaging is strong and clear, and compliance seems to be the norm.
There is hand sanitizer available everywhere—at bike share stations on the sidewalk, on busses, in metro stations, by cash registers, by the entrance/exit of almost every public space. It’s also easily available for purchase in convenience stores and grocery stores.
People are still encouraged to work from home whenever possible. Schools have just restarted in the last few weeks, with a number of distancing/hygiene measures that will likely be in place for the foreseeable future.
Group gatherings are required to keep a list of contact information for everyone present (there’s an event venue in our building, so we’ve seen this in action). There was a cluster last month that began in the nightclub district, so all nightclubs in the capital were closed down until a system could be devised to more closely verify tracing information. This week, a QR code system became operational; hopefully it will solve the problem.
Some of these measures may sound intrusive or inconvenient, and I’ll be the first to admit that wearing a mask outside when it’s hot is no fun. But it’s a trade-off, for being able to live life relatively normally. As much as I would like for this virus to go away already, I haven’t seen any evidence that it’s going to. I’m afraid that learning to live with it is the best we can do, for now.
Take care,
Lisa
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