[Funland] Tổng hợp tất cả mọi vấn đề liên quan về dịch bệnh viêm đường hô hấp cấp COVID - 19 - Phần 8

[Ohno]

Giờ khủng hoảng mới chỉ bắt đầu thôi, hiệu ứng đổ vỡ kiểu domino sẽ diễn ra. Tất nhiệ những ai có tài sản hoặc tiết kiệm thì ko đến mức nhưng những ai yếu thế sẽ cực kì mệt mỏi.

 

[hd-vt]

Chắc cụ không bị covid ảnh hưởng ăn nên làm ra ạ ? Em dự cụ làm ngành y tế hay trúng quả khẩu trang vừa rồi

Chém gió phần phật mới vào Of chứ cụ, sao nhiều cụ quá nghiêm túc thế nhỉ. Cứ phải nói như sách ạ híc.

 

[xetaiday]

Các cụ bàn chuyện vĩ mô, thế giới, cao siêu quá.

Sáng nay em ngồi uống cafe chỗ ngã tư, trầm ngâm, suy ngẫm, nhìn dòng người qua lại.... Nhận thấy, ô tô vẫn chạy đều, Mẹc Bi vẫn lướt qua...
Nhìn quanh quán, vẫn còn mấy em xinh tươi ngồi check in, đưa ipx, ip11 ra chụp choẹt.
Lướt quanh các siêu thị, TTTM, các mặt hàng cao cấp vẫn bán đều.
Nghĩa là covi chỉ "giết" 1 bộ phận nào đấy trong xã hội, còn lại vẫn phát triển đều đều, nhân loại vẫn phải cứ tiến lên.

Với mỗi cá nhân thì cần phải linh hoạt, đánh hơi và nắm bắt cơ hội, thì vẫn có thể thành công.
Ngồi nhìn khóc 1 chỗ ko tránh khỏi failure.

 

[tungvjckj]

Em nghĩ là dòng tiền ko được luân chuyển thì sẽ có khủng hoảng.Còn mức độ thế nào thì chả ai có thể dự báo được vì hiện “anh cả” vẫn chưa kiểm soát được covid cơ mà.

 

[toyota219]

Điều đáng ngạc nhiên là tiền kiếm được ít đi nhưng giá hàng hoá ví dụ ăn uống lại lên giá ?

Em nghĩ lạm phát 1 phần do thu nhập giảm, 1 phần cắt dịch vụ sxuat nên thiếu hàng. Năm sau giảm phát mới mệt. Như em thấy tụi Dow, bữa nào tăng cũng do tin từ Fet.

 

[yuh2105]

Chém gió phần phật mới vào Of chứ cụ, sao nhiều cụ quá nghiêm túc thế nhỉ. Cứ phải nói như sách ạ híc.

Em lại nghiêm túc vớ vẩn roài kính cụ 1 ly, say say chút mới chém đc

 

[BRIA]

Vấn đề ở đây là Covid nó ảnh hưởng tới gần như toàn bộ các nghành kinh tế và dịch vụ của các quốc gia trên thế giới. Đặc biệt là các quốc gia đông dân ( thị trường tiêu thụ lớn ) và các quốc gia có nền kinh tế mạnh. Các quốc gia này lại có ảnh hưởng mạnh và trực tiếp tới kinh tế quốc tế.
Như các cụ biết các ngành như du lịch, hàng không, các sự kiện thể thao, văn hóa, lễ hội, âm nhạc......đã bao giờ bị tê liệt toàn cầu ? Những ngành này đóng góp không hề nhỏ vào GDP của các quốc gia và thúc đẩy đầu tư và tái đầu tư vốn trên toàn thế giới.

Mọi người thường nhầm lẫn giữa khả năng chịu đựng của toàn bộ nền kinh tế và khả năng chịu đựng của các phần tử trong nền kinh tế (doanh nghiệp, gia đình, cá nhân).

Dù dịch có nặng đến đâu thì con người vẫn tồn tại, vẫn có giao thương (dù chỉ trên nhu cầu thiết yếu), nhưng trong giai đoạn giảm sút xuống mức cầu thiết yếu đó thì rất nhiều các phần tử đã vỡ do quá sức chịu đựng rồi.

 

[_MQ_]

e dự tháng 6 mới yên

Năm sau phải ko cụ

 

[german army]

BBC vốn không thiện cảm mấy với Việt Nam cũng phải công nhận khi Bệnh nhân 91 nói "Nếu ở nước nào khác ngoài Việt Nam, tôi đã chết"
Link

 

[smart_sharp]

Cái này nói trong mọi cuộc khủng hoảng đều đúng mà. Sau mỗi cuộc khủng hoảng, người nào, doanh nghiệp nào thậm chí giống loài nào thích nghi được thì tồn tại (và phát triển). Nhưng giả sử giờ giống loài khác đến xâm chiếm trái đất, bắt trái đất làm nô lệ hoặc tiêu diệt toàn bộ loài người (họ mạnh hơn loài người như lý luận của cụ) thì có nên khóc lóc không?

Cụ nói khéo thế hehe. Ý cụ em hiểu kiểu lông rân là lđ các nước tư bản sợ rụng lon, gãy ghế chứ gì kkk. Đấy, kinh tế với 9chị9em quấn lấy nhau khít khịt.
Lđ là hội làm 9chị9em, kinh tế cũng chỉ để phục vụ cho cái lon cái ghế lđ.
Cụ bênh em làm giề, chiến với cc lý luận kinh tế khắp người kia kìa .
Nói hơi phũ, chứ emcôvit là đợt thanh tẩy, chọn lọc tự nhiên. Mà đâu dễ gì ngỏm. Yếu thì đi ngỏm, già thì chết, khóc lóc cái ếu gì.

 

[hd-vt]

Cái này nói trong mọi cuộc khủng hoảng đều đúng mà. Sau mỗi cuộc khủng hoảng, người nào, doanh nghiệp nào thậm chí giống loài nào thích nghi được thì tồn tại (và phát triển). Nhưng giả sử giờ giống loài khác đến xâm chiếm trái đất, bắt trái đất làm nô lệ hoặc tiêu diệt toàn bộ loài người (họ mạnh hơn loài người như lý luận của cụ) thì có nên khóc lóc không?

Cụ chém còn dữ dội hơn em . Em fun là chính cụ ợ.

 

[Mợ toét 2710]

Năm sau phải ko cụ

Hihi, chắc vậy

 

[Venetta]

BBC vốn không thiện cảm mấy với Việt Nam cũng phải công nhận khi Bệnh nhân 91 nói "Nếu ở nước nào khác ngoài Việt Nam, tôi đã chết"
Link

Cụ copy được cả bài vào không, link BBC khó vào quá

 

[german army]

Cụ copy được cả bài vào không, link BBC khó vào quá

Patient 91: How Vietnam saved a British pilot and kept a clean Covid-19 sheet
By Oliver Barnes & Bui ThuBBC News

• 27 June 2020
• "If I'd been almost anywhere else on the planet, I'd be dead. They would have flicked the switch after 30 days," says Stephen Cameron from his hospital bed.
  The 42-year-old Scottish pilot spent 68 days on a ventilator, thought to be a longer stretch of time than any patient in the UK. He did so not in a hospital in his hometown of Motherwell, but in Vietnam's sprawling and hectic Ho Chi Minh City, with no close friends or family for thousands of miles.
  Cameron, the last Covid-19 patient in an intensive care unit in Vietnam, has been the sickest doctors have had to deal with during the outbreak.
  The country, home to 95 million people, has seen only a few hundred confirmed cases, single-digit ICU admissions and not a single recorded death. So rare was a case of Cameron's severity in Vietnam, every minute detail of his recovery was reported in national newspapers and on TV news bulletins.
  He's now known nationwide as Patient 91, the moniker given to him by public health officials when he fell ill in March.
  "I'm very humbled by how I've been taken into the hearts of the Vietnamese people," says Cameron, speaking exclusively to the BBC. "And most of all I'm grateful for the bloody-mindedness of the doctors in not wanting me to die on their watch."
  '10% chance of survival'
  Dozens of Vietnam's intensive care specialists held regular conference calls to discuss Cameron's condition.
  "The very small number of critical care patients meant anyone who was severely ill got the attention of all the country's top-level clinicians," explains Dr Kidong Park, the World Health Organization (WHO) representative to Vietnam.
  • How 'overreaction' made Vietnam a virus success
  • Tracking the global outbreak
  • Vietnam's handwashing song goes global
• For much of Cameron's two-and-a-half months in a medically induced coma, he depended on an Ecmo machine, a form of life support only used in the most extreme cases, to survive. The machines extract blood from a patient's body and infuse it with oxygen, before pumping it back in.
  "I'm lucky that the only lasting effect seems to be that my legs aren't yet strong enough to hold me, but I'm doing physiotherapy twice a day," says Cameron. "At one point, my friend Craig was told by the Foreign Office I had a 10% chance of survival, so he planned for the worst - he gave up my apartment and started doing things somebody would do if I was coming home in a box."
  Since he regained consciousness, he describes several tearful phone conversations with friends back home, who "didn't think [he'd] ever come back".
  Doctors had to contend with multiple complications while Cameron was in a coma. His blood became extremely sticky leading to clots. His kidneys failed meaning they required dialysis and his lung capacity plummeted to 10%.
• "When it came out in the press here that I needed a lung transplant, apparently loads of people offered their lungs, including a 70-year-old Vietnam war veteran," he smiles. "But it would have been a double lung transplant so that wouldn't have ended well for him."
  Despite the outpouring of support from the Vietnamese people and the hundreds of thousands of dollars spent on Stephen Cameron's care, the reaction when he first tested positive for the virus was less welcoming.
  The Buddha bar cluster
  Cameron became ill only a few weeks after arriving in Vietnam in early February. Like many Western pilots, he'd headed to Asia to ply his trade for higher pay in the booming regional air travel industry. Two nights before he was due to pilot his first flight for Vietnam Airlines, and the night before most bars and clubs were set to shut in Ho Chi Minh City to contain the virus, he headed to meet a friend in an expat bar in an upmarket district of the city.
  At the time, Vietnam had had fewer than 50 confirmed cases but, according to Prof Guy Thwaites, director of the Oxford University Clinical Research Unit based in Ho Chi Minh City and a government advisor on infectious diseases, the population "already had a healthy amount of respect for and fear of the virus".
  It was the weekend before St Patrick's Day, so the Buddha Bar and Grill was packed with revellers wearing Irish fancy dress when Cameron arrived just after 22:00. "I don't drink, I largely kept myself to myself in the corner, played a few rounds of pool and went home at around 3.15am," he recalls.
  However, when he developed a fever, the day after his maiden flight, and 12 others at the bar tested positive in the days following, sympathy for him among locals was in short supply. The Buddha bar cluster, as it became known in the local press, was the single biggest outbreak of coronavirus in south Vietnam, infecting nearly 20 people both indirectly and directly.
• And for some on social media, Cameron, who had criss-crossed the city taking in the sights, was to blame.
  Despite there being no proof he was the source of the outbreak, one prominent businessman, Luong Hoai Nam, labelled Patient 91 a "time bomb". He called for foreigners breaking the rules to be deported, earning plaudits from his followers on social media
  "There seemed to be a desire to pin it on me coming from abroad, as I did a visa run to Bangkok a week earlier," says Cameron, who's convinced he too was infected at the Buddha bar, and was not the source of the outbreak.
  "I was the first person to put my hands up and say: 'Look I don't feel well'. It was inevitable I would be blamed."
  Rapid decline
  On 18 March, Cameron was admitted to hospital after testing positive for the virus, and authorities moved swiftly to shut down the bar and quarantine everyone in his apartment building. In total, 4,000 people linked to the Buddha bar outbreak were tested.
  "Patient 91's condition got worse very quickly," recalls Prof Luong Ngoc Khue, who serves on the Vietnamese health ministry's Covid-19 taskforce and advised on Cameron's treatment. "There was a worrying decrease in the function of not just his lungs, but his kidneys, liver and blood flow."
  With his condition deteriorating, Cameron remembers taking the bold decision of asking to be ventilated. "I was exhausted as I couldn't sleep and I just thought: 'Oh, put me under and get it sorted'," he says. He was then comatose for weeks and weeks on end, as doctors agonised over his treatment. Meanwhile, the small number of other ICU patients in Vietnam recovered and went home.
  All the while, his case gained prominence, with top politicians promising to put every effort into keeping him alive, as the hospital temporarily footed the bill for the spiralling costs of his care.
  "There's a lot of political kudos that Vietnam can take from my recovery," he observes, "and it keeps their record, which is pretty phenomenal on Covid, very, very low."
  Prof Khue insists everyone - foreign or Vietnamese - had access to good quality care. "We focused on treating sick people at the highest level, both in terms of facilities and human resources, regardless of whether they were Vietnamese or from abroad," he says.
  But he gleefully reports that "49 out of 50 foreign patients have recovered and been discharged from hospital".
  Waking up was a 'blur'
  When Stephen Cameron was first ventilated in early April, there were just over a million cases of coronavirus around the world. When doctors woke him up, on 12 June, there were in excess of seven million. But Vietnam had avoided the worst of the virus. There has not been a recorded case of community transmission since 16 April.
  "I never thought it would take as long as 10 weeks to wake me up. I remember being roused, I remember getting my tracheotomy, I remember being wheeled through hospital corridors - and then the next few days are a blur."
  From his recovery bed in a private room in Cho Ray Hospital on the other side of Ho Chi Minh City, where he was transferred after being taken off a ventilator and testing negative for the virus, Cameron is feeling the fallout of several months being motionless and severely ill.
  He's lost 20kg (3.1 stone) and his muscles are so wasted it's an effort to swing his leg up even a few inches. He's also suffered from severe fatigue and depressive lows since waking up, in addition to the nagging fear that post-traumatic stress could be just around the corner.
  "I've been through a lot mentally. Right now, all I want to do is return home. It's the lack of noise and heat I miss the most. There's such a buzz here from all the scooters' horns and it's monsoon season. Fifteen degrees back home for me is just nice."
  'I need to get back to Scotland'
  In the past few weeks, he's been visited at his bedside by not just a procession of doctors and nurses, but also high-ranking diplomats, government officials and politicians. Most recently, his hospital room played host to the British consul general and the chairman of Ho Chi Minh City's People's Committee.
• He recalls the mayor promising he'll "be back in England soon", before being swiftly corrected.
  "I told him, if I get dumped in England, I won't be too happy," he jokes. "I need to get home to Scotland, it's 400 miles away."
  There's also a practical side to Cameron's desire to return home as soon as possible. The twice-daily rehab sessions he receives are made more difficult by the language barrier as very few medical staff speak good English. Rehabilitation for the most severely ill patients after ICU is always a delicate dance. Progress and pitfalls are faced in equal measure, and it can be dragged out over several years.
  The hospital, in which Cameron is a patient, dates back to Vietnam's French colonial era - it's one of the country's leading medical facilities
  "I feel like I'm taking up a bed that somebody who is really ill could take."
  Beating the odds
  But his care hasn't come free. An Ecmo machine costs $5,000-10,000 (£4,000 - £8,000) a day to operate and he was reliant on one for eight-and-a-half weeks.
  The ongoing wrangling over who will cover the costs are causing him stress and diverting attention away from his recovery. At first, the Hospital for Tropical Diseases paid out of its own pocket for his treatment. Then, it seemed the British embassy would intervene. His work insurance eventually covered the cost. But the funds for his stay in Cho Ray Hospital are still up in the air.
  "It's become really, really frustrating. At the beginning, I'd send the insurance company an email and they would say: 'Yeh, we'll sort that'. Now, the response is 'We'll deal with this shortly' and nothing seems to happen."
• There's a place for Cameron on a Vietnam Airlines flight back to the UK on 12 July. Meanwhile, planes continue to shuttle Vietnamese nationals back from Europe, and having been declared fit to fly a week ago, Cameron is confused why he can't return home sooner.
  "As I'm such a well-known public figure here now, everything about my case is controlled by the government."
  The politics of his return are a reminder that the miraculous recovery of Patient 91 is not just a story of a Scottish pilot who recovered from Covid-19 and overcame the odds. It is the story of how a developing Southeast Asian country with a turbulent recent history beat the odds too.

 

[Xedap4banh2]

Viet Nam thử nghiện thành công trên chuột mà chả ai quan tâm nhỉ, chán thật

 

[1081982]

Khi nào số người nhiễm lên 100tr lúc đấy mới thực sự sợ

 

[khanhnz]

Dịch second hand đến nhanh thì tương lai lại sáng rồi, kết thúc sẽ càng nhanh để phục hồi, nó đến cuối năm mới là căng, tầm này khống chế đc thì sẽ ổn định rất nhanh.

 

[Joker86]

Viet Nam thử nghiện thành công trên chuột mà chả ai quan tâm nhỉ, chán thật

Mỹ thử nghiệm trên người cách đây cả tháng rồi mà còn chưa thấy gì. Nói chung là cứ xác định đầu năm có vaccine đi

 

[Venetta]

Patient 91: How Vietnam saved a British pilot and kept a clean Covid-19 sheet
By Oliver Barnes & Bui ThuBBC News

• 27 June 2020
• "If I'd been almost anywhere else on the planet, I'd be dead. They would have flicked the switch after 30 days," says Stephen Cameron from his hospital bed.
  The 42-year-old Scottish pilot spent 68 days on a ventilator, thought to be a longer stretch of time than any patient in the UK. He did so not in a hospital in his hometown of Motherwell, but in Vietnam's sprawling and hectic Ho Chi Minh City, with no close friends or family for thousands of miles.
  Cameron, the last Covid-19 patient in an intensive care unit in Vietnam, has been the sickest doctors have had to deal with during the outbreak.
  The country, home to 95 million people, has seen only a few hundred confirmed cases, single-digit ICU admissions and not a single recorded death. So rare was a case of Cameron's severity in Vietnam, every minute detail of his recovery was reported in national newspapers and on TV news bulletins.
  He's now known nationwide as Patient 91, the moniker given to him by public health officials when he fell ill in March.
  "I'm very humbled by how I've been taken into the hearts of the Vietnamese people," says Cameron, speaking exclusively to the BBC. "And most of all I'm grateful for the bloody-mindedness of the doctors in not wanting me to die on their watch."
  '10% chance of survival'
  Dozens of Vietnam's intensive care specialists held regular conference calls to discuss Cameron's condition.
  "The very small number of critical care patients meant anyone who was severely ill got the attention of all the country's top-level clinicians," explains Dr Kidong Park, the World Health Organization (WHO) representative to Vietnam.
  • How 'overreaction' made Vietnam a virus success
  • Tracking the global outbreak
  • Vietnam's handwashing song goes global
• For much of Cameron's two-and-a-half months in a medically induced coma, he depended on an Ecmo machine, a form of life support only used in the most extreme cases, to survive. The machines extract blood from a patient's body and infuse it with oxygen, before pumping it back in.
  "I'm lucky that the only lasting effect seems to be that my legs aren't yet strong enough to hold me, but I'm doing physiotherapy twice a day," says Cameron. "At one point, my friend Craig was told by the Foreign Office I had a 10% chance of survival, so he planned for the worst - he gave up my apartment and started doing things somebody would do if I was coming home in a box."
  Since he regained consciousness, he describes several tearful phone conversations with friends back home, who "didn't think [he'd] ever come back".
  Doctors had to contend with multiple complications while Cameron was in a coma. His blood became extremely sticky leading to clots. His kidneys failed meaning they required dialysis and his lung capacity plummeted to 10%.
• "When it came out in the press here that I needed a lung transplant, apparently loads of people offered their lungs, including a 70-year-old Vietnam war veteran," he smiles. "But it would have been a double lung transplant so that wouldn't have ended well for him."
  Despite the outpouring of support from the Vietnamese people and the hundreds of thousands of dollars spent on Stephen Cameron's care, the reaction when he first tested positive for the virus was less welcoming.
  The Buddha bar cluster
  Cameron became ill only a few weeks after arriving in Vietnam in early February. Like many Western pilots, he'd headed to Asia to ply his trade for higher pay in the booming regional air travel industry. Two nights before he was due to pilot his first flight for Vietnam Airlines, and the night before most bars and clubs were set to shut in Ho Chi Minh City to contain the virus, he headed to meet a friend in an expat bar in an upmarket district of the city.
  At the time, Vietnam had had fewer than 50 confirmed cases but, according to Prof Guy Thwaites, director of the Oxford University Clinical Research Unit based in Ho Chi Minh City and a government advisor on infectious diseases, the population "already had a healthy amount of respect for and fear of the virus".
  It was the weekend before St Patrick's Day, so the Buddha Bar and Grill was packed with revellers wearing Irish fancy dress when Cameron arrived just after 22:00. "I don't drink, I largely kept myself to myself in the corner, played a few rounds of pool and went home at around 3.15am," he recalls.
  However, when he developed a fever, the day after his maiden flight, and 12 others at the bar tested positive in the days following, sympathy for him among locals was in short supply. The Buddha bar cluster, as it became known in the local press, was the single biggest outbreak of coronavirus in south Vietnam, infecting nearly 20 people both indirectly and directly.
• And for some on social media, Cameron, who had criss-crossed the city taking in the sights, was to blame.
  Despite there being no proof he was the source of the outbreak, one prominent businessman, Luong Hoai Nam, labelled Patient 91 a "time bomb". He called for foreigners breaking the rules to be deported, earning plaudits from his followers on social media
  "There seemed to be a desire to pin it on me coming from abroad, as I did a visa run to Bangkok a week earlier," says Cameron, who's convinced he too was infected at the Buddha bar, and was not the source of the outbreak.
  "I was the first person to put my hands up and say: 'Look I don't feel well'. It was inevitable I would be blamed."
  Rapid decline
  On 18 March, Cameron was admitted to hospital after testing positive for the virus, and authorities moved swiftly to shut down the bar and quarantine everyone in his apartment building. In total, 4,000 people linked to the Buddha bar outbreak were tested.
  "Patient 91's condition got worse very quickly," recalls Prof Luong Ngoc Khue, who serves on the Vietnamese health ministry's Covid-19 taskforce and advised on Cameron's treatment. "There was a worrying decrease in the function of not just his lungs, but his kidneys, liver and blood flow."
  With his condition deteriorating, Cameron remembers taking the bold decision of asking to be ventilated. "I was exhausted as I couldn't sleep and I just thought: 'Oh, put me under and get it sorted'," he says. He was then comatose for weeks and weeks on end, as doctors agonised over his treatment. Meanwhile, the small number of other ICU patients in Vietnam recovered and went home.
  All the while, his case gained prominence, with top politicians promising to put every effort into keeping him alive, as the hospital temporarily footed the bill for the spiralling costs of his care.
  "There's a lot of political kudos that Vietnam can take from my recovery," he observes, "and it keeps their record, which is pretty phenomenal on Covid, very, very low."
  Prof Khue insists everyone - foreign or Vietnamese - had access to good quality care. "We focused on treating sick people at the highest level, both in terms of facilities and human resources, regardless of whether they were Vietnamese or from abroad," he says.
  But he gleefully reports that "49 out of 50 foreign patients have recovered and been discharged from hospital".
  Waking up was a 'blur'
  When Stephen Cameron was first ventilated in early April, there were just over a million cases of coronavirus around the world. When doctors woke him up, on 12 June, there were in excess of seven million. But Vietnam had avoided the worst of the virus. There has not been a recorded case of community transmission since 16 April.
  "I never thought it would take as long as 10 weeks to wake me up. I remember being roused, I remember getting my tracheotomy, I remember being wheeled through hospital corridors - and then the next few days are a blur."
  From his recovery bed in a private room in Cho Ray Hospital on the other side of Ho Chi Minh City, where he was transferred after being taken off a ventilator and testing negative for the virus, Cameron is feeling the fallout of several months being motionless and severely ill.
  He's lost 20kg (3.1 stone) and his muscles are so wasted it's an effort to swing his leg up even a few inches. He's also suffered from severe fatigue and depressive lows since waking up, in addition to the nagging fear that post-traumatic stress could be just around the corner.
  "I've been through a lot mentally. Right now, all I want to do is return home. It's the lack of noise and heat I miss the most. There's such a buzz here from all the scooters' horns and it's monsoon season. Fifteen degrees back home for me is just nice."
  'I need to get back to Scotland'
  In the past few weeks, he's been visited at his bedside by not just a procession of doctors and nurses, but also high-ranking diplomats, government officials and politicians. Most recently, his hospital room played host to the British consul general and the chairman of Ho Chi Minh City's People's Committee.
• He recalls the mayor promising he'll "be back in England soon", before being swiftly corrected.
  "I told him, if I get dumped in England, I won't be too happy," he jokes. "I need to get home to Scotland, it's 400 miles away."
  There's also a practical side to Cameron's desire to return home as soon as possible. The twice-daily rehab sessions he receives are made more difficult by the language barrier as very few medical staff speak good English. Rehabilitation for the most severely ill patients after ICU is always a delicate dance. Progress and pitfalls are faced in equal measure, and it can be dragged out over several years.
  The hospital, in which Cameron is a patient, dates back to Vietnam's French colonial era - it's one of the country's leading medical facilities
  "I feel like I'm taking up a bed that somebody who is really ill could take."
  Beating the odds
  But his care hasn't come free. An Ecmo machine costs $5,000-10,000 (£4,000 - £8,000) a day to operate and he was reliant on one for eight-and-a-half weeks.
  The ongoing wrangling over who will cover the costs are causing him stress and diverting attention away from his recovery. At first, the Hospital for Tropical Diseases paid out of its own pocket for his treatment. Then, it seemed the British embassy would intervene. His work insurance eventually covered the cost. But the funds for his stay in Cho Ray Hospital are still up in the air.
  "It's become really, really frustrating. At the beginning, I'd send the insurance company an email and they would say: 'Yeh, we'll sort that'. Now, the response is 'We'll deal with this shortly' and nothing seems to happen."
• There's a place for Cameron on a Vietnam Airlines flight back to the UK on 12 July. Meanwhile, planes continue to shuttle Vietnamese nationals back from Europe, and having been declared fit to fly a week ago, Cameron is confused why he can't return home sooner.
  "As I'm such a well-known public figure here now, everything about my case is controlled by the government."
  The politics of his return are a reminder that the miraculous recovery of Patient 91 is not just a story of a Scottish pilot who recovered from Covid-19 and overcame the odds. It is the story of how a developing Southeast Asian country with a turbulent recent history beat the odds too.

Cám ơn cụ nhiều! Bài báo viết ổn phết, thường thì BBC chả có nhiều cảm tình với Việt Nam.

 

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