Today’s haemodialysis session felt more like a troubleshooting seminar than a routine treatment. From the moment the machine started, venous pressure alarms began their relentless chorus—every few minutes, a shrill reminder that something wasn’t quite right.

First line of defence: flush the lines and reverse them. Blue to red, red to blue. A classic move. But instead of solving the issue, it merely swapped the problem—now the arterial pressure was complaining. A lateral move, not a victory.

Next strategy: switch substitution from pre to post. A hopeful tweak, but alas, the alarms persisted like stubborn ghosts.

So we hit pause. Off treatment, lines locked, and I was sent to sit in the sun—a rare prescription, and not unwelcome. Half an hour of warmth and stillness, letting the body rest while the machine was re-lined and reset.

Restarting meant compromise. Pre-substitution again, and a reduced flow rate—down from 300ml/min to 250ml/min. Not ideal, but sometimes you work with what the body will allow.

It’s a strange dance, this process. A choreography of tubes, pressures, and protocols. But behind the alarms and adjustments is a team trying, a body enduring, and a spirit that—despite the setbacks—still finds a moment of peace in the sun.

Let’s see how this ends up. For now, we adapt.