Suddenly, the exam room was plunged into darkness.
Thinking that the energy saving motion sensor had somehow felt the room was empty, I was placing the sutures with my back to the door and the patient was lying very still since I was stitching up his face, I raised my hand and waved.
“Well, that’s a first…”
The patient made a nervous laugh.
I stood and using the glow of the light visible from the battery powered laptop that was perched on the countertop, I made my way to the door. Sticking my head out, it was clear the entire clinic was without power. Other patients and staff stood in the hallway, waiting expectantly.
But the power never came back on.
For the next hour we saw the remaining patients by the light of our cell phones, doing the best we could. I was not able to look inside ears or do EKGs. I could not order any tests or X-rays. Our clinic phones did not work. We had to *gasp* handwrite our prescriptions. The centrifuge could not spin our blood vials before transport to the lab.
In fact, almost the entire city was without power thanks to an accidental severed line somewhere… according to reports from the power company.
Tens of thousands of dollars worth of vaccines in our fridge/freezer could potentially go bad as the ETA on the power coming back on was maybe 12 hours away. Some of the staff graciously packed up the vials boxes and drove them to another clinic with power for safe keeping.
The movie theater cleared out next door. None of the traffic lights worked and the backed up intersections were utter mayhem. My kids’ school was pitch black and they had runners bringing to the front kids for pick up since the intercom system did not work.
You know what, though? It was fun! A dry run for the zombie apocalypse… We’ve got this!
It was a glorious feeling.
I spent the entire evening when I got home trying to catch up on the charting and patient calls that I could not get to from the office. Why is it that ONE hour without power turns into THREE frickin’ hours of work? How is that even possible?