Simulation Equipment

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CHAPTER 3 Simulation Equipment

Dave ran into a little trouble with his equipment on 2001, A Space Odyssey. First, the equipment shut off life support for his fellow space travelers; then it snipped the air hose to Dave’s partner; and then the darn thing wouldn’t let Dave back into the ship. And Dave had forgotten to bring along the helmet to his space suit.

Some equipment malfunctions are more vexing than others.

Fortunately, Dave knew his equipment inside and out and found a way to blast back into the ship and shut down the decidedly antisocial HAL.

To date, no simulation equipment has committed mass astronaut-o-cide. But we are wise to take 2001’s lessons to heart.

So this chapter focuses on lesson 1: knowing the simulation equipment. In the back of our minds, though, we’ll be ever mindful of lesson 2—that the simulator instructor is the key element to any simulation scenario.

What’s out there in simulation equipment land? This chapter focuses on the Big Kahunas in anesthesia training—full-service computerized anesthesia mannequins, but it’s worth mentioning all the other “toys” out there that are used to train medical personnel.

PARTIAL TASK TRAINERS

The devices known as partial task trainers let people train for one specific task—some easy, some quite complicated.

So there’s no shortage of gizmos and gadgets to train doctors in doing specific tasks. As noted in the last item—interventional cardiology simulator—there are also a host of “flat screen computer simulators.” You can interview a patient, order tests, run codes, examine lab tests. What can’t you do on a computer?

In surgery, more and more detailed “haptic” trainers are coming into use. “Haptic” means that the trainer gives you the actual “feel” of the tissue and the procedure. Quite realistic and a great way to train surgeons.

In obstetrics, they have a vaginal delivery mannequin capable of generating all kinds of problems—occiput anterior, shoulder dystocia.

In a perfect world and in a perfect simulation center, you could imagine a kind of “amusement park” where every partial task and flat screen computer simulator is present.

Room 7 opens up another consideration in the “perfect simulation center”—standardized patients.

A standardized patient is an actor who plays out a role from a script. This script can detail any aspect you want a resident to learn about:

Because you want your residents to be able to handle “anything,” you can make use of standardized patients to handle, well, “anything.” Let your imagination run wild and come up with any possible interpersonal interaction your resident might ever encounter. Then, using the standardized patient, you “simulate” this interpersonal interaction.

Simulation centers do not live on mannequins alone.

But there’s no getting around it, the centerpiece of the simulation center is the anesthesia mannequin, so here goes.

What’s out there?

There are three big players: one lame duck company and two that are still very much part of the action.

The lame duck—MEDSIM Eagle

You will still see some of these sturdy players out there.

These anesthesia simulators are no longer made or serviced; they are (dab your eyes here) “orphan simulators.” MEDSIM Eagle doesn’t even exist anymore; the company is now just MEDSIM, and they only make ultrasound simulators. (You can try contacting the company (www.medsim.com), but don’t be surprised if no one knows what you are talking about when you mention their simulator.)

However, these simulators are built like brick houses, so they last and last. “Why throw it out?” its owners say, “I’ll service it myself and keep this baby going and going!” The MEDSIM Eagle simulator has a drug recognition system, like the METI simulator.

Harvard’s simulation center has one of these simulators, and you sense that they love keeping it going. Picture some diehard Volkswagen beetle owner keeping his 1965 bug alive, engine rehaul after engine rehaul, never giving up on the old car.

The two players: METI (Sarasota, FL; www.meti.com) and Laerdal (Denmark; www.Laerdal.com).

Each has its pluses and minuses, each has its champions and detractors, so we’ll just go down the line and see how they add up. Your best bet if you’re considering laying down cash for these simulators (it’s serious bread) is to take them for test runs and see which fits your style better.

DRUG RECOGNITION SYSTEM

Theater Props

Where do you get all the “characters” to play parts? One handy trick is to just leave the room, change one thing in your appearance, then come back as a different person.

There, now that we’ve laid out the equipment, let’s see the actors do their thing. Let’s put some meat on all this theory and see the METI and Laerdal in action.

How do you actually punch things into the simulator to make all this stuff happen? How do you “make the blood pressure go down” and “elevate the ST segments” and “fibrillate” the patient?

The short answer is—you get trained by the METI or Laerdal people.

The long answer is—METI or Laerdal reps come to your place, in-service you, and help you get started. You do best, when starting, to use one of their “canned scenarios” (for example, an allergic reaction). You start out with simple cases; then, as you get more comfortable, you add complexity. Time passes, you become more facile, you start hunting around in the virtual world of simulation, and you discover more scenarios you can use. Then you attend meetings, run through simulations, and start programming your own scenarios.

This chapter alone cannot teach you all the steps and intricacies of running the simulator computer. But if we run through some real examples, you can get a feel for it.

So let’s get a feel for it!

Two simulators, the METI and the Laerdal, are mentioned (more on both of them in the next chapter).

METI SIMULATOR, CANNED SCENARIO, ALLERGIC REACTION, SIMPLEST POSSIBLE

The residents get a preop and operative record that shows a routine patient. You tell the residents that the patient has no known allergies. (Tee-hee, we know that an unpleasant surprise awaits.)

They get instructions to hang Ancef and (surprise, surprise), the patient develops an allergic reaction to this antibiotic.

Built into the machine is the “allergic reaction scenario.”

You let the residents come into the room, set up, induce the patient, get going; then you press the button that says “Allergic reaction.”

Everything is programmed in, including drug recognition via bar code, so you can sit back and watch the event unfold.

What does the computer have and what does it do?

On the computer screen, you see the steps of the reaction, and the computer will be “looking out” for the one thing that can save the day—in this case epinephrine.

Everything proceeds on automatic pilot. Of course you, as simulator runner, have to do a lot more work than just press the button and stand back. You have to deck out the operating room to make it look real, act the part of the surgeon, for example, or the circulator. Keep up the normal OR chatter, and overall try your best to “make the whole thing as real as possible.”

But as far as actual computer work goes, you can press the button and stand back and let the little morality play unfold.

What Might the Residents Do?

METI SIMULATOR, IMPROVISED SCENARIO, BLEEDING

Give the students chart work that sets the stage for a big bleed, say a gunshot wound to the abdomen.

Instead of pressing the “start scenario” button, like you did on the allergic reaction scenario, you “ride the keys” on this one.

The residents go into the room and relieve the persons in charge of a case. The patient has already been intubated and is on the ventilator.

So things aren’t quite on “automatic pilot.” You yourself introduced the bleed and entered the transfusion. But the METI computer did do a lot by itself—it “responded” to the blood loss and to the blood transfusion.

The drug recognition system continues to work throughout the scenario, without you having to do anything. For example, the residents may “buy time” with phenylephrine or calcium before they “hang the blood”—as sometimes happens in real life.

Can you program in a bleed? Yes! You could set up a preprogrammed scenario, just like the first one.

METI SIMULATOR, ON-THE-FLY—RIGHT MAINSTEM INTUBATION

You call in the residents to relieve on a case. Tricky you, you have placed the endotracheal tube in the right mainstem. The METI has no way of “knowing this” and so to decrease the saturation, you must program that in, which you do, but you can’t do it directly, and this is the headache. This is the big, big, big difference. You have to increase the shunt fraction or increase the O2 consumption (or both, if you want to). What a pain in the ass! Instead of just punching in “Saturation 92%,” you have to “program the physiology to create the number.” No surprise, then, that when you do this on the fly you can easily overshoot or undershoot. All this “programming in the physiology” is great when you generate a programmed scenario well ahead of time. But when you’re sitting there and just want the damned sat to go to 92% right now, the METI can be maddening.

What Do the Residents Do?

To further illustrate the way the METI and the Laerdal models work, I draw on scenarios right from this book. Chapter 8 has 50 scenarios, each about four pages long. Each scenario is meant to focus on one or two main teaching points. Here I go through the first 20 scenarios and include all the “computer commands” for the simulators. Some scenarios use the METI, some the Laerdal, so you’ll be able to see each in action. You will notice a few things.

SCENARIO 15.

Porphyria.

Three blind mice and a farmer’s wife armed with a knife … Not really, I’m just seeing if you’re paying any attention. As you can see by now, a dull recitation of the computer stroke entries in a simulation scenario is as dry as being force-fed Zweiback toast. The magic is in the “entire thing playing out,” as you will see in Chapter 8. Furthermore, telling you how to work the computer converts this book into a computer manual. And no one reads computer manuals. You learn to work the computer by, well, working the computer. And so also you will learn to work the Laerdal and the METI by, well, working the Laerdal and the METI. Five minutes sitting in front of that screen and banging around will outdo five hours of reading about it. For completeness’ sake, I’ll grind all the way through the 20th scenario. Just keep in mind that this section is presented only to give you the feel of the “computer work and setup” behind the scenarios.

SCENARIO 20.

Muscular dystrophy and the need for a pacer.

So there it is, putting a little meat on the bones of the equipment, showing you how you actually work it. This is, as mentioned earlier, just a brush stroke on the actual workings of the Laerdal and METI. Each one has tons of options and programming capabilities (for you to insert your own scenarios). You could—for that matter, should—sit down with a company representative with the actual thing in your hands to understand better the tabs, folders, buttons, and gizmos.

My personal experience? I got in-serviced on the METI along with about another dozen faculty members. As time passed, most others “fell away”; and one other soul (Albert Varon, our education director at the University of Miami) and I became the “involuntary volunteers” in the simulator.

We found that no matter how much in-servicing you get, you don’t really know what to do until you throw yourself into it and start “doing simulation” with residents. (My personal thanks to the first residents who had to put up with some serious floundering.)

After a while, we got comfortable enough to do simple things, then branched out. Later, our department got a Laerdal, an entire floor of a building as a Safety Center, and the most important element— a technician who actually knew what he was doing! (Ilya Shekhter, who provided all the technical help on this and other chapters.) Now, when we do simulations, Ilya does the technical programming, and I do the “in-the-room-medical-stuff.” To my mind, that is the best setup—a technician who knows the stuff inside and out (and, frankly, much better than I do)—and a medical instructor who knows the lesson to be learned.

Technician, plus equipment, plus teacher—that is the magic brew.

What if you can’t afford a technician? Can you yourself (say, an anesthesia faculty member with an interest in teaching in the Simulator) do it all by yourself? Yes. It’s tough though. Things go much better with a dedicated technician to help out.

Now, HAL, I’m done here, open the hatch please. HAL?