Last week, Steve and I went to Peritoneal Dialysis Training at the Northwest Kidney Centers' Seattle location. Steve's Home Hemodialysis fistula had been barely limping along; we'd been running into repeated high pressure alarms suggestive of a critically narrowed vessel. I'm certain we made the switch to PD in the nick of time. After all, Steve has no sites available for central line back-up. With no access, there's no dialysis; without dialysis, there's no Steve!
We met with the ever-patient RN Rebecca, who walked us through the nuances of the procedure. Just as with our Home Hemodialysis training, if you read the directions - and don't "freelance," it all goes pretty smoothly. Rather than the five weeks of daily training we had for Hemodialysis, our PD training took only four days - plus a number of phone calls to the on-call nurses afterwards.
We ran into a few hitches along the way:
1. On the first day, Seattle was deluged by a blizzard just as our session was ending. I made it from the central area to Lake Forest Park in forty minutes in my Suburu. Steve, in the Access Bus, didn't get home for several hours. And then, the bus couldn't make it up the snowy driveway. What to do? Call the Fire Department, of course. Digging a path in the snow, a good-humored fire crew hovered over Steve and his power wheelchair as he chugged safely up our slippery hill.
2. At first, our PD formula didn't remove enough fluid. Steve accumulated over 8 pounds in the first 3 days. A change in the recipe resulted in generous fluid removal - but the more concentrated dextrose solution played havoc with Steve's blood sugar.
3. In a single day, Steve's blood sugar ranged from a high of 374 to a low of 41. Daughter Brita managed the hypoglycemic episode with me on the phone, feeding her dad oranges and sugar water.
4. Then, I committed a protocol error in connecting Steve to the machine. And while I really don't think I contaminated the site, the nurses felt it was safest to give Steve a course of intraperitoneal Vancomycin. All because of my venial sin - one that I'll never repeat! Nobody wants to chance peritonitis from an error in technique.
So how does Steve like the new modality? So far, he says, it's too early to tell. But he quickly adds that he doesn't miss the 15 gauge needles, or the sensation of the needles in his arm.
While the treatments are much simpler to do than Hemodialysis, the treatments take longer, and must be done every day.
Steve isn't too keen on the Buddha belly look he has with two liters of extra fluid in his abdomen. He gets bloated and uncomfortable - it's a work in progress.
From my perspective as the CarePartner, PD is less stressful. Blood flowing at 400 ml/minute can be intimidating. After all, that's practically the blood flow velocity of the human placenta. I delivered babies for years, and I've been on the receiving end of several post-partum hemorrhages. That's a lot of blood pouring out at incredible speed!.
As for Steve, it's yet one more adjustment in the process of his renal failure. Hopefully, we'll work out the bugs in the system, Steve will equilibrate, and life will go on. We can already see the greater ease of travel that might be possible with PD. And living in places where power failures are common, we like the fact that PD can be done entirely without electricity.
As with Hemodialysis, Steve and I are in awe of the medical engineering genius involved in dialysis in general, and the further wonder of being able to adapt this technology to home use.
Take care,
Linda Gromko, MD
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