It's amazing how taking a leap back, to a time before electronic medical charting and medication distribution systems were all the rage, can change your job perspective. That's what happened when my hospital was scheduled for maintenance on our computer system and individual cell phones. I worked the morning shift after the systems had been shut down at midnight.

After weeks of preparation, we were equipped with enough paper charting supplies, requisitions, and training for the weekend.

I've been an RN for many years, and I grew up on paper charting. It took me a while to get accustomed to computer charting. But, in time, I came to rely on the safety the computer system adds when verifying that the right patient is getting the correct dosage of the correct drug. It's almost like having another pair of eyes.

That computer-free weekend it felt strange not to have that backup, but it was interesting how quickly the nurses passed meds that morning because they didn't have to scan the patient and each med. A nurse also commented how she had more quality time with patients — not the fragmented, often interrupted time to which we've unfortunately become accustomed.

And our charting went faster without the "click, clicking" of having to switch from computer screen to computer screen, yet our paperwork that weekend became part of the patient's permanent chart.

As for the absent cell phones, what I noticed — and really liked — was that I received very few calls on the land lines. No phone calls from physicians, transporters, ancillary departments, or even the lab since the lab was to hand-deliver results to the unit every hour on the hour.

The silence was welcome. I felt free to carefully assess my patients without numerous interruptions or feeling like I needed a deli counter ticket system. "Now serving No. 3. How can I help you?"

With this gift of silence came a feeling of calm. I couldn't get over how relaxed I felt for the first time in years. This was the way it was when I first went into nursing. I was free to do my job and not have someone on the other end of a phone demanding my time, despite the fact I had patients to assess and meds to give before 10 a.m., or I would be "dinged" with a "medication overdue" message, which I then had to spend time justifying.

The down side to the lack of cell phones and computer access was being unable to check on STAT labs. I had to wait for the lab to call me, versus checking periodically on the computer for the results. But constantly checking the system for lab results also is an added pressure. Don't get me wrong — I love my computer as much as the next person. But I think the instantaneous knowledge you can glean leads to added responsibility and, therefore, added stress, which becomes a vicious cycle. The more you know, the more you want to know, and the more you feel obligated to act immediately on that knowledge.

In the end, when the computer system came back online, there was a feeling of comfort that I had not expected.

It's amazing how quickly we adapt (somewhat reluctantly at times) to changes in our workplace. At times I fear we have become more technology focused and less patient-centered. I never thought I would be one of the people who wished for the "good old days," but, back then, somehow we still managed to help people get better without all the technology.

When we couldn't help, sometimes we were able to allow patients to have dignity while dying. For the most part, I am reconciled to living with today's technology, and I'm grateful for it most of the time. But I have to admit that it was wonderful to get a brief glimpse back into those "good old days" — if only for one weekend.