It is a superior virus that has evolved and fine-tuned its mechanism
of transmission to be near-perfect. That's why we're all so terrified.
We know we can't destroy it. All we can do is try to divert it, outrun
it.
I've worked in health care for a few years now. One of the
first things I took advantage of was training to become FEMA-certified
for hazmat ops in a hospital setting. My rationale for
this was that, in
my home state of Maine, natural disasters are almost a given. We're
also, though you may not know it, a state that has many major ports that
receive hazardous liquids from ships and transport them inland. In the
back of my mind, of course, I was aware that any hospital in the world
could potentially find itself at the epicenter of a scene from The Hot
Zone. That was several years ago. Today I'm thinking, by God, I might
actually have to use this training. Mostly, though, I'm aware of just
that -- that I did receive training. Lots of it. Because you can't just
expect any nurse or any doctor or any health care worker or layperson to
understand the deconning procedures by way of some kind of pamphlet or
10-minute training video. Not only is it mentally rigorous, but it's
physically exhausting.
PPE, or, personal protective equipment, is sort of a catch-all phrase
for the suits, booties, gloves, hoods and in many cases respirators
worn by individuals who are entering a hot zone. These suits are
incredibly difficult to move in. You are wearing several layers of
gloves, which limits your dexterity to basically nil, the hoods limit
the scope of your vision -- especially your peripheral vision, which all
but disappears. The suits are hot -- almost unbearably so. The
respirator gives you clean air, but not cool air. These suits are for
protection, not comfort. Before you even suit up, your vitals need to be
taken. You can't perform in the suit for more than about a half hour at
a time -- if you make it that long. Heat stroke is almost a given at
that point. You have to be fully hydrated and calm before you even step
into the suit. By the time you come out of it, and your vitals are taken
again, you're likely to be feeling the impact -- you may not have taken
more than a few steps in the suit, but you'll feel like you've run a
marathon on a 90-degree day.
Getting the suit on is easy enough,
but it requires team work. Your gloves, all layers of them, are taped to
your suit. This provides an extra layer of protection and also limits
your movement. There is a very specific way to tape all the way around
so that there are no gaps or "tenting" of the tape. If you don't do this
properly, there ends up being more than enough open pockets for
contamination to seep in.
If you're wearing a respirator, it needs
to be tested prior to donning to make sure it is in good condition and
that the filter has been changed recently, so that it will do its job.
Ebola is not airborne. It is not like influenza, which spreads on
particles that you sneeze or cough. However, Ebola lives in vomit,
diarrhea and saliva -- and these avenues for infection can travel.
Projectile vomiting is called so for a reason. Particles that are in
vomit may aerosolize at the moment the patient vomits. This is why if
the nurses in Dallas were in the room when the first patient, Thomas
Duncan, was actively vomiting, it would be fairly easy for them to
become infected. Especially if they were not utilizing their PPE
correctly.
The other consideration is this: The "doffing"
procedure, that is, the removal of PPE, is the most crucial part. It is
also the point at which the majority of mistakes are made, and my guess
is that this is what happened in Dallas.
The PPE, if worn
correctly, does an excellent job of protecting you while you are wearing
it. But eventually you'll need to take it off. Before you begin, you
need to decon the outside of the PPE. That's the first thing. This is
often done in the field with hoses or mobile showers/tents. Once this
crucial step has occurred, the removal of PPE needs to be done in pairs.
You cannot safely remove it by yourself. One reason you are wearing
several sets of gloves is so that you have sterile gloves beneath your
exterior gloves that will help you to get out of your suit. The
procedure for this is taught in FEMA courses, and you run drills with a
buddy over and over again until you get it right. You remove the tape
and discard it. You throw it away from you. You step out of your boots
-- careful not to let your body touch the sides. Your partner helps
you to slither out of the suit, again, not touching the outside of it.
This is difficult, and it cannot be rushed. The respirators need to be
deconned, batteries changed, filters changed. The hoods, once deconnned,
need to be stored properly. If the suits are disposable, they need to
be disposed of properly. If not, they need to be thoroughly deconned and
stored safely. And they always need to be checked for rips, tears,
holes, punctures or any other even tiny, practically invisible openings
that could make the suit vulnerable.
Can anyone tell me if this happened in Dallas?
We
run at least an annual drill at my hospital each year. We are a small
hospital and thus are a small emergency response team. But because we
make a point to review our protocols, train our staff (actually practice
donning/doffing gear), I realized this week that this puts us ahead at
some much larger and more notable hospitals in the United States. Every
hospital should be running these types of emergency response drills
yearly, at least. To hear that the nurses in Dallas reported that there
were no protocols at their hospital broke my heart. Their health care
system failed them. In the United States we always talk about how the
health care system is failing patients, but the truth is, it has failed
its employees too. Not just doctors and nurses, but allied health
professionals as well. The presence of Ebola on American soil has drawn
out the true vulnerabilities in the health care system, and they are not
fiscally based. We spend trillions of dollars on health care in this
country -- yet the allocation of those funds are grossly
disproportionate to how other countries spend their health care
expenditures. We aren't focused on population health. Now, with Ebola
threatening our population, the truth is out.
The truth is, in terms of virology, Ebola should not
be a threat to American citizens. We have clean water. We have
information. We have the means to educate ourselves, practice proper
hand-washing procedures, protect ourselves with hazmat suits. The CDC
Disease Detectives were dispatched to Dallas almost immediately to work
on the front lines to identify those who might be at risk, who could
have been exposed. We have the technology, and we certainly have the
money to keep Ebola at bay. What we don't have is communication. What we
don't have is a health care system that values preventative care. What
we don't have is an equal playing field between nurses and physicians
and allied health professionals and patients. What we don't
have is a culture of health where we work symbiotically with one another
and with the technology that was created specifically to bridge
communication gaps, but has in so many ways failed. What we don't have
is the social culture of transparency, what we don't have is a stopgap
against mounting hysteria and hypochondria, what we don't have is nation
of health literate individuals. We don't even have health-literate
professionals. Most doctors are specialists and are well versed only in
their field. Ask your orthopedist a general question about your health
-- see if they can comfortably answer it.
Health care operates in
silos -- we can't properly isolate our patients, but we sure as hell
can isolate ourselves as health care workers.
As we slide now into
flu season, into a time of year when we are normally braced for winter
diseases, colds, flus, sick days and cancelled plans, the American
people has also now been truly exposed to another disease entirely: the
excruciating truth about our health care system's dysfunction -- and the
prognosis doesn't look good.
Note: In response to some
comments, I would like to clarify that I am FEMA-trained in level 3
hazmat in a hospital setting. I am a student, health guide and writer,
but I am not a nurse.
Source: huffingtonpost.com
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