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In the Rio Grande Valley, it is difficult to find someone who has not been touched by COVID-19.
The pandemic devastated the region, a largely Hispanic area, where poverty, poor health and close families put them on a collision course.
Dr. Ivan Meléndez, from the Hidalgo County Health Authority, describes how obesity and diabetes have contributed to the crisis.
Almost a third of the residents are also uninsured, many are also undocumented and afraid to seek medical help.
“I hate clichés, but this was the perfect storm,” he said.
He has spent months running trying to coordinate the coronavirus reply.
We started the day with him in a rare quiet moment: his morning prayer at home.
But soon he will be going to visit the Edinburg Regional Medical Center, a hospital that skillfully and fortunately has turned a corner.
They had to adapt as Texas opened up faster than many other states and an increase in infections followed.
They take us to what used to be a conference room and has been converted into an intensive care unit.
There are little more than a handful of intubated patients, but Dr. Melendez said just a few weeks ago that “it was packed to the brim with people everywhere.”
He believes that the united community has begun to take the virus more seriously, using masks and social distancing.
The number of patients has been significantly reduced. But he is also aware, that may be due in part to the fact that some of the most fragile people in the area “who could barely hold on, are gone.”
Gustavo Ortiz is 55 years old and has had pneumonia since COVID-19. But he is also terrified that his business will collapse.
Many here are under intense financial pressure. It is a stark reminder of the wealth and health gap plaguing this country.
Another challenge that has been faced in this area is the process of transporting the dead, the grim responsibility of Juan López.
Like the doctors at the hospital, he has seen a reduction in the number. But he is still surprised by the volume.
He said he still moves up to 20 bodies a day. “During the last six months, I have dealt with 1,000 bodies. I have lost count,” he said.
Some have lost more than most of us could imagine.
Both of Priscilla García’s parents died, only four days apart. She has not yet been able to hold a funeral for them.
“It is very sad because it is not normal to go through that. Crying to our parents and not being able to say goodbye to them,” he said.
Funeral director Tim Brown is doing everything he can to support bereaved families. But they must cry from a distance.
Two weeks ago he had 106 victims of COVID-19. Today he is 69. It is a decline, but he still feels overwhelmed.
“We went from a normal job one day to breaking down walls. It has come at great personal cost,” he said.
“I did not sign up to check the bodies in the houses. I wanted to take care of my community … People are talking about first responders. But there is a huge movement of last responders.”
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He has recently been organizing the funeral of his friend, Jorge Cabrera, a celebrated police officer who died with COVID-19.
Colleagues and friends have to pass by the coffin in their patrol cars, greeting their family to pay their respects.
It is deeply moving and deeply sobering.
Jorge is now one of the more than 148,000 dead in this country.
More than six million have been infected. It is not yet a nation or a region out of danger.