The news about the covid situation in Spain and around the world was getting more and more alarming. We started to worry that soon even our access to the hospital might be restricted. The general atmosphere also seemed to fuel a sense of paranoia. There was constant talk in the media about the shortages caused by the pandemic, and I began to wonder if we, as foreigners, might be treated differently from the locals if healthcare resources eventually ran thin. I brought this up with Matilde, and she reassured me that there was no need to worry about that.
In the hospital, there was a large lobby outside the neonatal unit that we walked through every time we went to see Saimi. One day, when I arrived at the hospital, I walked into a startling sight: workmen were building plywood partitions, and the lobby was filled with hospital beds. I wasn’t sure exactly what was happening, but it looked as if they were turning the lobby into some kind of reception ward for the sick. At the same time, the news reported that morgues in Madrid had run out of space, and bodies were going to be stored in an ice rink. At that point, it was clear to us that it was time to leave for Finland, if we could still make it. On the other hand, we were also worried about the risks of the journey for Saimi and what kind of situation would be waiting for us back in Finland.
Elli called our insurance company and told them we wanted to get to Finland as soon as possible. After that, everything happened incredibly fast. By the very next day, we were informed that an ambulance flight had been arranged for Saimi. To our surprise, we were told that only one parent could come along as an escort. At first, I found this outrageous, but it later turned out that there really wasn’t room for more than one person besides the medical staff. We notified the insurance company that I needed to get back to Finland as well, which wasn’t exactly easy at that point, as most flights had been cancelled. In the end, it was settled quickly, and I was booked on a commercial flight via Munich for the same day that Saimi and Elli were taking their own flight. Fortunately, we had insurance, as that air ambulance cost something like 50,000 euros, if I remember correctly.
We had been told earlier that Saimi would need a passport to travel to Finland and that the requirements for a small child’s photo were the same as for adults. In other words, for example, the face had to be expressionless, the mouth closed, eyes open, and looking directly at the camera. We thought it might be quite challenging to get a photo like that of Saimi. In practice, it would have been truly impossible. Fortunately, as it turned out, Saimi didn’t need a passport after all, and we didn’t even have to attempt to take such a photo.
On the day of departure, I walked with Elli to the hospital and took a taxi to the airport. The drive to the airport was like traveling through a ghost town: everything was closed, and there were no people to be seen. At the airport, shops were closed, benches had been taken out of use, and people were being urged to keep their distance from one another. There were only a few passengers on the plane, yet we were all seated right next to each other in the middle of the aircraft. When passengers asked if we could spread out across the plane, the request was denied. At Munich airport, there were armed police or border guards monitoring the situation, although I’m not sure what their specific role was, as guns seemed somewhat impractical in the fight against a virus.
Before departure, we found out that Saimi would be taken to Jorvi Hospital in Espoo, but we didn’t know whether covid restrictions would prevent me from going there, and we were worried we would be isolated in different places. During my layover in Munich, I called Jorvi, and was finally told that I could come to the hospital as long as I wore a mask, avoided other people, and didn’t move around the hospital any more than was necessary.
At this stage, a state of emergency had already been declared in Finland, and a voluntary two-week quarantine was recommended for those arriving from abroad. In practice, however, no one seemed to know how to act. At least that’s how it looked when I arrived at Helsinki-Vantaa airport. In Munich, passengers boarded the plane returning to Finland from various corners of the globe. After landing, we were first crammed into a single bus, standing close to one another, and driven to the terminal. The airport was almost empty, yet we were guided into a very small space to queue and wait for the security check. I asked a border official if this kind of arrangement made any sense, and he just shrugged his shoulders, saying, “What else can we do?” After the inspection and picking up my luggage, the shops and other services in the arrivals hall seemed to be operating as usual.
Saimi was transported with Elli from door to door: first by ambulance to Barcelona airport, then by plane to Helsinki, and from there by ambulance to Jorvi Hospital. The journey went well, and Saimi was calm throughout the flight. There were no other problems or surprises along the way either, except for a slight delay at the Helsinki end, as the ambulance initially lacked compatible equipment and some supplies had to be fetched separately.
The ambulance flight left Barcelona in the evening, and Saimi reached Jorvi Hospital late at night. Since I had arrived in Finland much earlier, I went home to sleep and headed to Jorvi first thing in the morning, where Saimi was already settled in her own room with Elli.
