Bob Here.
Sometimes it can be very easy to be lulled into a false sense of security when you’re on dialysis. I mean, there are times when our treatments can go without a hitch for many treatments consecutively.
When you think about the shear number of treatments we have, it can be pretty mind numbing. It’s simple math, right? Three treatments per week times 52 weeks is 156 treatments per year. Doesn’t sound so bad.
But for those of us who have been on for a while, the numbers quickly get into “Holy Crap” territory. I’m coming up on my seven-year ‘anniversary’ of starting dialysis. That means that when I reach that day, I will have had 1,092 dialysis treatments. Sweet Mary. That’s a whole lot of sticking, bleeding, swelling, itching, cramping, and not eating our favorite foods.
Now, the amazing thought to me is how many of theses sessions go routinely, that is without any major disasters. When you have like 10, 12, 50 in a row without anything going wrong, you start to feel like the treatments where something does go amiss are really just anomalies. Weeks can go by without a single negative occurrence.
Then there’s last week.
I can’t really explain it, but haywire dialysis treatments tend to happen in bunches. Last week started out normally enough. I was nearing the end of my treatment on Monday, minding my own business reading a book on my e-reader, then I heard a “POP” and all the power went out.I didn’t think much of it at first. Everyone in the dialysis center, including the patients, nurses, attendants, and staff just kind of looked at each other. Everyone was expecting the power to just come on again in a minute or two, that had happened many times before.
But nooo. Not this time. A few minutes later, we’re all still looking at each other. In the dark.
Now I know the people in my center are well trained. But it’s one thing to read what you should do in a set of circumstances, and quite another to actually do it. I’m sure the company that runs my center has a detailed set of instructions and procedures for losing power. But when you have a room full of people at different stages of their treatments, and new patients showing up, the situation gets hectic no matter how well-trained the staff.
The attendant who was watching over me came over.
“Do you know what to do under these circumstances?” he asked.
“Don’t YOU know what to do??” I asked, my voice rising a little more than I intended.
“No, I do, of course,” he said, “but I thought this would be a good time to review our emergency procedures.”
I just laughed a little. “Maybe we can drill another time, like when there’s light to read the instructions.”
He laughed a little too. “Right, makes sense. I guess I should just manually return your blood.”
Then the charge nurse came into the room. He was all the way on the other side of the center, well out of ear-shot. “Don’t return everybody’s blood yet,” he said.
My attendant stopped in his tracks. “Right, I’m not going to return your blood just yet,” he said.
“I agree, let’s wait on that,” I said. Then we both laughed.
After that, a whole lot of nothing happened for a while. The nurse was apparently in the back room consulting with someone on the phone. But the pressure was building to do something, as the backup caused by the blackout was getting worse by the minute.
Then, the nurse came charging out of the back room. “Return everybody’s blood,” he said.
“Why didn’t I think of that?” said my attendant.
Then he manually turned the pump on my machine, returning my blood and making me think about how dependent we are on electricity.
After that was done, my attendant said, “Well you only had a few minutes left in your treatment, I might as well take your needles out.”
As if on cue, the nurse popped out of the back room again and said, “Don’t take everyone’s needles out yet.”
“Right. Think I’ll wait on that too,” said my attendant.
I just laughed. “Your timing is perfect today, my friend.”
We were just sitting there shooting the breeze for a while, when my attendant said, “ I wonder what the delay is in taking your needles out.”
The charge nurse appeared again. “Go ahead and take everyone’s needles out,” he said.
My attendant and I just looked at each other and laughed again.
But a power outage really puts a hurt on the routine of a dialysis center. Several patients had substantial amounts of time to go in their treatments and had to be fit in to come back the next day. The staff was frantically calling patients scheduled later in the day to help them make arrangements to go to another center. Personally, I didn’t have much fluid on, so I didn’t feel too bad about cutting my treatment short. But we all know that long-term it’s much better to stay for your entire treatment whenever possible.
Anyway, when I went back to the center on Wednesday, I thought, well, we got that disaster out of our system, now we’ll just get back to our regular routine. So the bunch of us early arrivers (mostly retirees who were used to getting up early during their careers) were sitting outside in the waiting room. They normally open the doors around 5 a.m. to let us in to get our weight and get ready for our treatment.
5 a.m. goes by. Nothing.
5:15. We’re still waiting. We’re all looking at each other wondering what’s going on.
At around 5:30 the attendant who had taken care of me on Monday comes through the door.
He looks at me. “Knock knock,” he says.
I hesitated, but eventually I answered. “Who’s there?”
“Bone”
“Bone who?”
“Bone dry.”
“Huh?”
“Our water system isn’t working and we can’t let you in yet.”
“Give me a reason why I shouldn’t hurt you right now.”
“Because I’m behind a locked door?” he said, running back to the treatment area and slamming the door closed.
The water delay fouled things up for the second straight day, and everyone was scrambling around, trying to get some patients re-scheduled and moving around others. My delay was about an hour and a half, and I’m sure people who were on later had even longer waits.
When I came back on Friday, my confidence was a little shaken, but, lo and behold, the treatment went off without a hitch.
But since those two crazy days, I’m a lot less likely to take a routine session for granted.
Have you had any similar circumstances?
Hope you all have a great week of treatments. Stay active and take care.
But nooo. Not this time. A few minutes later, we’re all still looking at each other. In the dark.
Now I know the people in my center are well trained. But it’s one thing to read what you should do in a set of circumstances, and quite another to actually do it. I’m sure the company that runs my center has a detailed set of instructions and procedures for losing power. But when you have a room full of people at different stages of their treatments, and new patients showing up, the situation gets hectic no matter how well-trained the staff.
The attendant who was watching over me came over.
“Do you know what to do under these circumstances?” he asked.
“Don’t YOU know what to do??” I asked, my voice rising a little more than I intended.
“No, I do, of course,” he said, “but I thought this would be a good time to review our emergency procedures.”
I just laughed a little. “Maybe we can drill another time, like when there’s light to read the instructions.”
He laughed a little too. “Right, makes sense. I guess I should just manually return your blood.”
Then the charge nurse came into the room. He was all the way on the other side of the center, well out of ear-shot. “Don’t return everybody’s blood yet,” he said.
My attendant stopped in his tracks. “Right, I’m not going to return your blood just yet,” he said.
“I agree, let’s wait on that,” I said. Then we both laughed.
After that, a whole lot of nothing happened for a while. The nurse was apparently in the back room consulting with someone on the phone. But the pressure was building to do something, as the backup caused by the blackout was getting worse by the minute.
Then, the nurse came charging out of the back room. “Return everybody’s blood,” he said.
“Why didn’t I think of that?” said my attendant.
Then he manually turned the pump on my machine, returning my blood and making me think about how dependent we are on electricity.
After that was done, my attendant said, “Well you only had a few minutes left in your treatment, I might as well take your needles out.”
As if on cue, the nurse popped out of the back room again and said, “Don’t take everyone’s needles out yet.”
“Right. Think I’ll wait on that too,” said my attendant.
I just laughed. “Your timing is perfect today, my friend.”
We were just sitting there shooting the breeze for a while, when my attendant said, “ I wonder what the delay is in taking your needles out.”
The charge nurse appeared again. “Go ahead and take everyone’s needles out,” he said.
My attendant and I just looked at each other and laughed again.
But a power outage really puts a hurt on the routine of a dialysis center. Several patients had substantial amounts of time to go in their treatments and had to be fit in to come back the next day. The staff was frantically calling patients scheduled later in the day to help them make arrangements to go to another center. Personally, I didn’t have much fluid on, so I didn’t feel too bad about cutting my treatment short. But we all know that long-term it’s much better to stay for your entire treatment whenever possible.
Anyway, when I went back to the center on Wednesday, I thought, well, we got that disaster out of our system, now we’ll just get back to our regular routine. So the bunch of us early arrivers (mostly retirees who were used to getting up early during their careers) were sitting outside in the waiting room. They normally open the doors around 5 a.m. to let us in to get our weight and get ready for our treatment.
5 a.m. goes by. Nothing.
5:15. We’re still waiting. We’re all looking at each other wondering what’s going on.
At around 5:30 the attendant who had taken care of me on Monday comes through the door.
He looks at me. “Knock knock,” he says.
I hesitated, but eventually I answered. “Who’s there?”
“Bone”
“Bone who?”
“Bone dry.”
“Huh?”
“Our water system isn’t working and we can’t let you in yet.”
“Give me a reason why I shouldn’t hurt you right now.”
“Because I’m behind a locked door?” he said, running back to the treatment area and slamming the door closed.
The water delay fouled things up for the second straight day, and everyone was scrambling around, trying to get some patients re-scheduled and moving around others. My delay was about an hour and a half, and I’m sure people who were on later had even longer waits.
When I came back on Friday, my confidence was a little shaken, but, lo and behold, the treatment went off without a hitch.
But since those two crazy days, I’m a lot less likely to take a routine session for granted.
Have you had any similar circumstances?
Hope you all have a great week of treatments. Stay active and take care.
RSS Feed