OK, if you’re squeamish don’t read this.
A couple of weeks ago I saw my dermatologist, and I had a mole removed. I wasn’t expecting to have it done, I just mentioned that the mole was in the way of my bra strap. My doctor offered to remove the mole right there and then. As a lay on a bench in the surgical area, green paper surrounding the offending mole, I was a little unsure of what I’d got myself into.
That feeling didn’t subside as the surgical assistant (nurse?) peeled the plastic top off of a box containing a shiny new set of specialized surgical scissors. (Panic: They were going to cut off my mole with scissors!) I tried to breathe deep so the doctor wouldn’t know I was nervous.
The micro (mini?) surgery was over in less than a minute, the only thing piquing my adrenaline was the needle of local anesthetic. A couple of weeks later, the only mark left is a pink spot that is slowly fading away. But somewhere in that time where I was lying on that bench, I had a look at all the medical gear that seemed to be single use: needles, vials, swabs, scissors and other gear my adrenaline-mired, fight-or-flight mind couldn’t identify. Thinking of those single-use scissors, made of stainless steel or some other metal fit for making a precise instrument, it struck me that although our health is incredibly important, medical waste must be taking a huge toll on the earth, not just in the landfill but in the resources required to make all that gear.
This morning on CBC.ca I noticed that hospitals are trying to find ways to reuse some equipment, after careful sterilization and so forth, of course.
Certainly there are legitimate concerns about reusing medical equipment. I worked with Homemakers magazine writer Paul Benedetti on this story about Canada’s war superbugs, and the impact resistant bacteria can have on a person’s life.
What do you think, could hospitals find ways to be lighter on the earth?
