A Tale of Two Cities Supporting Xinjiang

As agreed, Grandma Gulibahar's treatment will last for ten days.

At nine o'clock in the morning, just as Zhou Hongmei opened her clinic, she heard a voice in somewhat broken but exceptionally clear Mandarin coming from the lobby:

"Dr. Zhou, where is Dr. Zhou?"

His voice was loud and clear, full of energy.

As Zhou Hongmei walked out of the clinic, she saw Grandma Gulibahar standing in the center of the hall, carrying a bulging cloth bag in her hand, surrounded by several people.

What was most surprising was that the old man stood steadily without a cane or his son's help.

"Dr. Zhou."

Upon seeing Zhou Hongmei, the old man's eyes lit up, and he quickly walked over.

Yes, a brisk walk, though still a bit unsteady, but definitely a normal walking pace.

She opened the cloth bag, inside were two golden-brown, fragrant naan breads and a large bag of red dates.

"Here, take this."

She stuffed the things into Zhou Hongmei's hands, saying, "I roasted these naan breads myself and dried these red dates myself."

Dr. Zhou, your traditional Chinese medicine really works.

I can work in the fields now; I even fed the cattle and sheep yesterday.

The hall fell silent instantly.

All the patients and their families waiting for their appointments, and even the nurses at the information desk, looked over.

Someone recognized Gulibahar—just half a month ago, this old woman was half-carried and half-supported by her son when she entered the house; her knees were so swollen that her pants were stretched tight.

"Isn't that the Kazakh woman with severe rheumatism?"

"Oh my god, she can walk by herself?"

"It's only been a little over a week, right? The changes are incredible!"

A crowd gradually gathered around.

Some people asked if the old man was still in pain, some asked how he was treated, and some turned directly to Zhou Hongmei: "Dr. Zhou, can my chronic leg pain be cured?"

"Dr. Zhou, my mother also has rheumatism. Can she see you?"

"Dr. Zhou, when are you seeing patients? I'll bring my father!"

Just as things were getting lively, Aygul was leading two interns on rounds from the clinic.

She spotted Gulibahar in the center of the crowd at first glance.

At first, she didn't recognize the old woman with a rosy complexion; she was completely different from the hunched-over, pain-stricken Gulibahar she remembered.

Until I heard the old man speak.

"I used to feel better for a couple of days after getting an IV drip, but it would relapse in less than two weeks."

"Dr. Zhou's case is different; she eliminated the root cause of the illness."

As the old man spoke, he even bent his knees to demonstrate, "Look, now I can bend, I can squat!"

Aygul stopped in her tracks.

She watched the elderly man's joints move flexibly, saw the eager eyes of the patients around him, and watched Zhou Hongmei patiently answering questions as she was surrounded by others.

The medical record folder in my hand tightened without me even realizing it.

What Aygul didn't expect was that when Gulibahar turned around, she saw her.

The old man was stunned for a moment, then surprisingly walked over with a smile.

"Dr. Aygul, you're here too."

"Let me tell you, Dr. Zhou's traditional Chinese medicine really works; it's much more effective than IV drips."

She patted her knees: "Look, I can walk now. If you feel unwell anywhere, go see Dr. Zhou; she can cure you completely."

Aygul opened her mouth, but couldn't utter a single word.

Looking at the old man's sincere face, at those eyes that had once been clouded by pain but were now clear and bright, she suddenly felt a burning sensation on her face.

"I...I still need to do rounds."

Aygul managed to squeeze out a sentence before turning and leaving.

Their steps were quick, almost as if they were running away.

Aygul did not go to the ward.

She went straight back to the doctor's office, closed the door, sat down in the chair, and remained motionless.

Faint noises from the outpatient hall drifted in from outside the window, reaching his ears. "Dr. Zhou, will you be there tomorrow?"

My spouse has had rheumatism for twenty years. Is it curable?

"Does acupuncture hurt...?"

Aygul closed her eyes.

She remembered how Gulibahar looked when she first came to the hospital.

That was three years ago. My knee was swollen and shiny, and I was sweating profusely from the pain.

She prescribed the best nonsteroidal anti-inflammatory drugs and arranged for an intravenous infusion.

Every time the elderly woman came, she treated her diligently, but each time it was a cycle of improvement followed by a relapse. She comforted her, saying, "That's just how rheumatism is; it's good enough if you can control the symptoms."

She never imagined that this uncontrollable illness could actually improve.

She never imagined that what would improve the old woman's condition was the traditional Chinese medicine that she had always looked down upon.

My phone vibrated.

A message popped up in the department group chat; in the outpatient hall, Zhou Hongmei was surrounded by patients.

The following text reads: "Dr. Zhou registered 47 patients this morning, setting a new record."

Aygul stared at the message for a long time.

Then she turned on her computer and typed in the search box: Clinical research on the treatment of rheumatoid arthritis with traditional Chinese medicine.

Papers and data points popped up on the page.

She clicked on each article, and the more she read, the faster her heart beat.

It turns out there was research on it.

It turns out there was data.

It turns out that what she thought was unscientific was simply because she had never truly tried to understand it.

There was a knock on the office door.

"Dr. Guli, it's time for rounds." It was the intern's voice.

Aygul took a deep breath, closed the webpage, and went outside.

Zhou Hongmei officially opens her clinic at 10 a.m. every day, and a line forms in front of her clinic as early as 7:30 a.m.

There were elderly Kazakhs leaning on canes, Uyghur women with swollen and painful joints, and Han herders who had come from pastoral areas dozens of kilometers away, all of whom had heard that this place could cure old leg pain and rheumatism.

"Dr. Zhou, I was referred by Old Wang's neighbor..."

"Dr. Zhou, my aunt was cured here, so I came here too..."

"Dr. Zhou, my father can't walk. Can we bring him in by car?"

Zhou Hongmei was busy from morning till night, performing acupuncture, prescribing medicine, and explaining precautions. When her voice became hoarse, she would suck on a throat lozenge and continue.

Zhou Yi sometimes couldn't stand it and wanted to help her divert some patients, but the patients were all determined: "We'll wait for Dr. Zhou."

In one month, Zhou Hongmei personally treated more than 30 rheumatism patients.

There wasn't enough space to hang all the banners at the nurses' station, so they had to be folded up and put away in the cabinet.

The file box was overflowing with thank-you letters, some written in Chinese, some in Uyghur, and some in Kazakh.

Although Zhou Hongmei couldn't understand them, Rehemaiti volunteered to help translate a few letters, each word sincere.

The patient who came from the border farm 200 kilometers away took a whole day to get here.

The old man held Zhou Hongmei's hand and said, "Dr. Zhou, many people in our area have this disease. It would be great if you could come."

Zhou Hongmei didn't say anything, but carefully wrote down the old man's address.