METHUEN — Just over five years ago, Veikko Huuskonen, 52, then a resident of Hampstead, New Hampshire, was released from Holy Family Hospital after being treated for COVID-19 with what was then an unusual amount of celebration.
“I was the first one to make it out alive,” said Huuskonen, who now lives in South Portland, Maine.
On Wednesday, he returned to the hospital to thank the nurses and care providers who saved his life. It was an emotional meeting with some tears but even more laughter.
Together, they watched a video of Huuskonen in a wheelchair being pushed through the hallways of the hospital as staff cheered him on in their first “clap out” of the pandemic.
Like many COVID-19 patients in early spring 2020, it wasn’t immediately clear what Huuskonen was suffering from and Americans had not come to grips with the virus’s presence in the country.
“It wasn’t going to happen here in the United States,” Huuskonen said. “It was happening in China and they shut down Italy, but not here in the states.”
But after a reading showed he had a much lower level of oxygen in his bloodstream than normal, his doctor told him to go to the hospital immediately.
“I was feeling like crap,” he said. “I hadn’t slept in two days.”
Staff told him they would put him under for a few days so he could get rest. A day or two later, the country began its pandemic shutdown, said Sonene Graham, Huuskonen’s sister.
Twenty-one days later, Huuskonen woke up, weighing many pounds less. At one point, his kidneys shut down, requiring dialysis.
“Not that I remember any of it, I was sleeping,” he said.
Huuskonen was one of the first patients to be treated with “proning” for COVID-19, a technique where patients are put on their stomach to improve their oxygen level. It was a measure that would prove to be effective and become common practice during the pandemic.
Waking up was “very confusing,” Huuskonen said. A family member had also taken his phone to protect him from the news that the owner of the company he managed had died from COVID-19 after being sent to the hospital.
“He went in a couple of days before I did,” he added.
Huuskonen was also waking up in a different world, one where normal everyday life had changed and people were being encouraged to stay home.
“I slept through all that,” he said.
Renee Deyarmin, a nurse manager, said Holy Family went from 12 ICU beds to 35 at about the time Huuskonen arrived.
“We had many people that were dying from it,” she said. “A lot of it is a blur for me, still.”
But she remembers discharging Huuskonen.
“It was overwhelming,” she said. “That was a bright point.”
The group was chatty and reminisced on the struggles faced during the pandemic, which had only just begun when Huuskonen arrived at Holy Family.
“It’s hard to put into words,” Christine Basil, vice president of nursing and operations, said of seeing Huuskonen again. “It was a thing that brought us great pride.”
Huuskonen said he remembers the cheering as he was pushed through the hall.
“I didn’t realize it was going to be quite this long,” he added with a chuckle. “We went and went and went.”
After being discharged it took him around three more months to get back to normal. His vocal chords had been paralyzed during his treatment and he was out of a job.
“It took them a while to come back,” he said. “It took me a long while to get back on my feet.”
He had also gained a perspective on how serious COVID-19 was, a perspective not everyone had at the time.
About a dozen people filled the meeting room in the hospital.
Julie Abbott, senior director of nursing operations, said she was “very emotional but proud” and Huuskonen’s recovery meant a lot to the nurses.
“We were building a plane while flying it,” she said. “It was a triumph, the first real positive thing we were able to celebrate.”
One face stands out in Huuskonen’s memory of his care at the hospital. Greg Davis, who was at the time an ICU nurse, had been on a FaceTime call with Huuskonen’s family right before he was intubated.
As an ICU nurse, Davis was taking care of the most critical patients.
“I guess their screen captured my face,” he said.
Davis said he didn’t know Huuskonen remembered him until he was contacted recently by Deyarmin for the reunion.
The gathering was held during National Nurses Week and Huuskonen provided lunch for his former care team.
“I am so appreciative of the work they did,” Huuskonen said. “Basically bringing me back to life.”