"In view of the medical file, this mission seemed to have no particular problems. I took off for Bangui on October 24, to pick up little Michaël, who needed heart surgery, which turned out to be more urgent than expected.
After reassuring the parents and the young patient, we both boarded the plane for an almost 10-hour journey to Paris CDG. On the plane and during take-off and landing, Michaël is calm, but I put him on oxygen as a precaution. I look down at his abdomen to see his breathing getting weaker and weaker. Things are moving fast. Analysis of what promises to be a complex situation. I remain focused, calm and discreet.
I then call a stewardess and explain the situation to her in a low voice. She looks at me, a little confused. I smile and take her arm, asking her to make a call so that a doctor can intervene.
A passenger - a doctor - arrives very quickly. I explain the situation to him, as well as the data taken from my phone. At his request, we isolate ourselves in a compartment empty of passengers.
We settle Michaël on blankets and pillows to make him as comfortable as possible. We manage to keep him hydrated and change him several times, but he still doesn't cry.
I follow the doctor's instructions on oxygenation and non-oxygenation frequencies (avoids the risk of brain damage). I reassure myself as best I can, putting the oximeter on him every 5mn or even every 3mn...Saturation is maintained between 64 and 67% and bpm is at 100.
The atmosphere relaxes, volunteer, doctor, crew... Despite everything, I can see on the flight plan screen how far we still have to go; we're barely halfway there.
I stand with the little fellow for most of the flight: I talk to him gently, stroke his head, play with his fingers. I put the mask on, take it off, watch his sats, his bpm... The doctor finds Michaël calmed down.
We face a second alert over the Magreb: Michaël can no longer hold oxygen, even on a cylinder, and his bpm is accelerating. The captain begins to consider diverting the plane in order to save the child. However, the child's pathology requires an operation that only certain hospitals can carry out. Some of the children accompanied by Aviation Sans Frontières come from North Africa. We therefore have to continue to Paris, so as not to take any risks in terms of destination.
Michael can no longer hold oxygen and he starts to cry and even scream. His abdomen moves a lot. He fetches his oxygen from far away. Some of the crew members present are increasingly upset. Two stewardesses beside me are crying. Despite everything, the situation is being handled very well: the crew, the passengers, the Aviation Sans Frontières team... We talk a lot.
The landing is imminent. The SMUR has been informed of the situation and is about to take charge of the little boy. I'm tired, but serene: Michaël is now in good hands. This little boy, then condemned in his own country, is going to get a second chance and will soon be able to return to his loved ones, in full health."