How a Dialysis shortcut almost killed me in 1977.

Over in my “How Dialysis was in 1976” I said I’d write some other interesting stories about my journey. So here we go. I hope you enjoy.
It was March 77 and I found myself in Ward 11 after getting rigours every time I did my weekly machine clean and grease.
As it happened I bumped into a patient who had already been on hemo 3 years and I was just dying to get some tips from the senior member.
His name was Muir and he was an Orchardist here in Nelson, New Zealand. We got talking about how we were doing and he mentioned he did his cleaning of the machine when he got home at night as it held him up too much every morning before work.
I was encountering that problem too and my ears pricked up when he recounted how he simply rinsed the lines and dialyser out and then disinfected when he got home.
If I was ever going to keep my 8-5 job I was going to have to make some changes and this one sounded just the berries. Having only been on dialysis 6 months and at home for 3, I was doing 10 hours three times a week. Trying to be on by 8 or 9 pm, doing 10, coming off, bleaching, rinsing and disinfecting dialyser and lines before I could even think about heading to work was very difficult. It just wasn’t working. The dialyser I was using was an 18 inch long 3 x 2 inch Gambro that was packed with plastic plates with a cellophane membrane between each plate. Primitive and not terribly efficient.
Anyway I quickly got them out to the laundry after coming off and ran hot water and bleach thru them to remove clots and fibrin. Showered, dressed and out the door. Worked a treat. I was my usual zombie self for the first half of the day but I was at least a punctual zombie.
I felt pretty happy with myself and couldn’t help but wonder why we hadn’t been taught these tricks in training.
Wednesday night came around and I got myself plugged in. I was on less than and hour and started getting rigours but the old Drake Willocks were good for that and often you just had to ride them out. Not long after that I started vomiting and started getting a little concerned. After throwing up for most of the last 4 hours I came off at 2 am and tried to get some sleep. Elusive as it was I was able to sleep in between vomiting bile only every half hour. My whole body was shacking as my stomach muscles were going through hell.
My wife, Chris, phoned the doctor and he came out at about 9 am. First thing he said when he walked into the bedroom was “So this is a kidney machine”?. I wasn’t comforted.
He decided something major was going on and quickly ordered an ambulance into which I was hoisted. I’m sure those guys know every pothole and go that slow as it felt like hours getting the 8 miles to hospital. Chris followed me in and was going to meet me at the ward.
Ward 11 welcomed me back and I was put in a private room. I recall several nurses rushing about and an intern peering down on me. I was trying to explain I had been vomiting non stop since 10am the previous evening (bile only from around 12) and didn’t feel so good and just then as he was looking into my eyes, I stopped breathing. Um, this isn’t good. I could see and hear what was going on but as much as I wished my body to take a breath, it refused. Having never been in the predicament before I did however realise one of the fundamentals to sustaining life is breathing. The intern immediately realised I was in some bother and yelled something and nurses became a blur. Just at that time Chris walked in the door, just to be u turned by a nurse. Oh great, wonder what she was thinking.

I opened my eyes. My throat really hurt and I had been moved. The first thing I saw was Chris sitting beside my bed. I went to talk and couldn’t. She said I’d had pipe down my throat for the last 2 days so it wasn’t surprising it was sore. Obviously irrigation, or sewerage I thought. I gestured for something to write on and she shuffled through her handbag and came up with a notepad and a pencil. I wrote “What day is this and where am I”?
She said it was Friday afternoon and this was Intensive Care.I’d been in there since I came in yesterday morning. It seems I had blood poisoning. Gram negative septicaemia to be precise and I was lucky to still be here. I was to hang around the waterworks ward for another week and then sent to Home Dialysis Training Centre so my technique could be reviewed.
Somewhere along the way I had infected myself and they had to find where.

I set up, washed cleaned up 3 times that following week without a hiccup. Passed with flying colours even. Karen, one of the nurses said to me. Well it’s got to be there somewhere what you’re doing wrong. Tell me what you do when you come off in the morning”.
Well I have to be at work by 8 so I strip off all the gear, get it out to the laundry, rinse it out and disinfect it when I get home at 5.30.

You do what? YOU DO WHAT? Where on earth did you get such a numbskull idea like that?

Hey Muir’s been doing it just fine for years and he’s still alive.

She pointed out to me that Muir had a totally different dialyser to mine. He was using a Kiil which was bolted together and after every wash he could pull it to bits and completely change all the membranes. That’s why he didn’t get infections.

I was given a wrap over the knuckles and told to stick the training method I was shown and not to deviate, which I have managed since then.
Shortly after I was allowed to cut down to 3 times 8hours per week which did help to get me to work on time.

Even today some of the old hands at the unit give me stick about my “Brydonisms”. It was a very dangerous lesson as I came very close to loosing
my life. While I was at work the bugs had been growing in the lines and dialyser and even though I was disinfecting and leaving them for over 24 hours before use, the bugs had grown and came out in me when I went on. Very, very bad.

Stick to the rules people. You’ll do just fine. Thank you. Questions welcome.