Out-of-towners compete for Shanghai's hospital beds

Two women with crudely made cardboard signs with the word zhu su (accommodation) wait near the city's Zhongshan Hospital for clients to come to them. — Wang Rongjiang

Wu Guangxia, a 46-year-old migrant worker, lies in a cheap room across the street from Shanghai's Huashan Hospital, praying that a hospital bed will soon become available so she can get treatment for a serious arm injury incurred in an industrial accident in neighboring Zhejiang Province.

In a similar down-market apartment near the Shanghai Cancer Center, a migrant worker from Jiangsu Province surnamed Xiao, sits anxiously awaiting the results of her latest chemotherapy sessions.

Tenants like Wu and Xiao, holed up in short-stay, low-cost accommodation near top Shanghai hospitals, are becoming the norm as patients from all over China seek treatment in a prized medical system unable to cope with the demand.

Officials from the Shanghai Children's Medical Center told Shanghai Daily that out-of-towners account for about 70 percent of all inpatients at their hospital.

The influx rankles some local people and medical workers, who complain that the city's health facilities are already overcrowded without visitors adding to the problem.

Still, hospitals said they don't discriminate against patients and don't have any policies giving Shanghai residents priority access to facilities. Beds, they said, go first to patients in the most immediate need, regardless of where they come from.

Hospitals declined further comment on the increasing number of non-local patients.

Waiting game

Many people come to Shanghai because of its reputation for high-quality medical care. Even the higher fees they have to pay because they aren't covered by Shanghai medical insurance are no deterrent.

The determined seek shelter nearby and wait.

"Are you looking for accommodation?" hawkers on the streets around Huashan Hospital whisper to suspected out-of-towners. The hospital is in Jing'an, one of the most expensive districts in Shanghai. Crudely made cardboard signs with the word zhu su (accommodation) written on them are everywhere.

Wu said her doctor in the city of Jiaxing in Zhejiang recommended that she seek further treatment at Huashan Hospital.

She was accompanied to Shanghai by her husband, son and elder brother. Unable to get a hospital bed, she rented an 8-square-meter room for herself in a ramshackle neighborhood across from the hospital and a similar room next door for her relatives.

They pay 130 yuan (US$25) a day for each room, which come with a double bed, mounted flat-panel television and a shared air conditioner.

Property agents in the area said even cheaper accommodation — at 80 yuan a day — is available, but the rooms measure less than 5 square meters and are much shabbier.

Xiao, who is awaiting cancer test results after a year's treatment, said she didn't think twice about coming to the city for treatment because the Shanghai Cancer Center is considered to be the best.

She has rented a 20-square-meter apartment in the less exclusive district of Xuhui at a cost of 120 yuan a day. The unit has two beds, a kitchenette, bathroom, air conditioner and Wi-Fi access.

Agents in that area said the most popular apartments cost between 100 yuan and 160 yuan a day, which is cheaper than a standard hotel room near the hospital.

It's not the money so much as the waiting that preys on the minds of patients in limbo.

"We're satisfied with the room rate, but we would give anything to get her into the hospital," said Wu Guangliang, Wu Guangxia's elder brother.

Wu said his sister can hardly move anymore. The trauma she suffered to her shoulder in the workplace accident nearly two months ago initially received poor medical treatment, adding to her current pain.

The injury is a potentially chronic disability.

The television is tuned to an entertainment channel that drones in the background. Wu Guangxia lies in bed, taking no notice of it.

Her husband, Li Xigui, is also a migrant worker. He said his family is now facing financial troubles because of all the money being spent on his wife's treatment.

The accident compensation she received from her employer does not cover the costs, he said.

It's a similar story for Xiao and her family. Their only income last year came from her husband's work as a migrant worker in Beijing, but he was forced to quit when she was diagnosed with cancer.

"It's been hard because our monthly chemotherapy trips to Shanghai from Jiangsu cost us 10,000 yuan each time," said Xiao, who previously worked as a maid.

Alarming rise

The rise in the number of patients-in-waiting alarms some local residents.

An official surnamed Xu, who sits on the residents' committee of a neighborhood near the Shanghai Cancer Center, estimated that half of the neighborhood's apartments are now occupied by such patients.

"We have a building where only one local resident remains," she said.

"The rest are all rented by patients or their relatives."

People complain of garbage left around the flats and about the noise of vomiting at night by patients undergoing chemotherapy at the center, she said.

Still, there's nothing to be done as the apartments aren't illegal, Xu said.

In the more up-market area around Huashan Hospital, police regularly patrol an area in which there are short-stay apartments. They are looking for any rule violations, such as illegal partitioning to cram more people into rentals.

"Police require us to register every tenant," said a landlord who has turned his two-story house near the hospital into short-stay rooms. He declined to give his name.