If the ward is already shut and patients are out, you can probably claim it back in an hour – all bacteria and viruses gone – 99.9999% germ free, to a Sterility Assurance Level of Log 6.
If the ward is occupied, it can be done in sealed-off sections, doubling up the beds for the 40 odd minutes the stuff needs to work and time to vent out afterwards. Again 99.9999% germ free, to a Sterility Assurance Level of Log 6.
To good to be true?
Ask the team at Salford Royal, where they started using the stuff in the haemotology unit back in 2013.
When the hospital’s record in reducing infection levels became so impressive they earned a special report on the BBC’s Breakfast TV.
An automated dispersal unit about the size of a small wheelie-bin releases a super-fine mist of charged particles finer than water. The mist is boosted with colloidal silver, actively grabbing at bacteria and virus cells – ripping them apart and oxidising their guts out.
Spread is everywhere, treating the total room – the entire air space – as well as under, around and behind all furniture and fittings.
In just seconds it kills all the nasties: MRSA, c. difficile, e. coli and of course norovirus. Ebola too, though you’ve probably got that well isolated.
Twenty minutes and the place is sterile, safe for everyone. (Tweet this)
Useful stuff when you think of these infections and how resistant they’re becoming to antibiotics. Prevention instead of cure.
Because yes, the new discovery of Teixobactin might pull us back from a return to the Dark Ages, but it will still take a while to get here.
Results now, now, now
To get hydrogen peroxide treatment right NOW, the guy with the hot line is Jon Knight on his mobile at 07776 451222.
You’re already heroes, coping with all this – you don’t need a norovirus wipeout, just as you start seeing daylight.
They carry disposable slippers to walk on the carpet. Disinfectant sprays for the loo. Gloves to remove the bedspread. Wipes to clean the TV remote, light switches and other high-touch surfaces.
Because they know that’s where germs lurk.
And quite rightly suspect that most of them never get attention between one guest and another.
Sure, there’s clean linen. The towels are replaced and fresh. The whole place is vacuumed. Neat and tidy. With all the welcome touches – chilled wine waiting, fresh flowers, a chocolate on your pillow.
The alternative is heavy-handed bleach treatment. Rooms out of action for hours at a stretch to provide enough contact time. And a headache-inducing after-stench.
So the usual procedure is to use an all-purpose spray. Light and odour-neutral, more a cleaner than a disinfectant. Lysol or Dettol – like nervous guests carry.
Except it shouldn’t be necessary for guests to go through their own safety procedure as well as the hotel’s.
That’s not five-star service, or anything close.
They shouldn’t have to lift a finger. Or exert themselves in any way, except to relax.
They should know they’re safe, no matter what.
Not even think about taking precautions, avoiding high-touch surfaces, or worrying about germs in the air – the invisible space that’s 80% of any room..
And they don’t have to, if the room is sterile.
Nor does management or staff.
Rolls-Royce or not at all
Because sterilising the place is quick and easy after cleaning is complete. Press button simple with a dry mist of ionised hydrogen peroxide that permeates everywhere.
Electrostatically charged to reach out and grab viruses, bacteria and fungi like a magnet. Oxidising them to nothing. Eliminating them from the air and all surfaces, even deep in cracks and crevices. Safely reverting to oxygen and water afterwards – quickly evaporating to nothing.
Effective and efficient – like five-star is supposed to be. Germ-free to a 6-log Sterility Assurance Level. Utterly reliable, as all five-star facilities are expected to be.
If you haven’t experienced it in your hotel room yet, you haven’t stayed five-star.
Though once managements start realising the cost-savings, don’t be surprised if some one and two-star establishments start offering five-star germ control too.
Back Off, Bacteria!is the blog of Hyper Hygiene Ltd, supplier of what we’re convinced is the most effective health protection system in the world. A fully mobile, all-automatic Hypersteriliser machine mists up workplaces with ionised hydrogen peroxide, spreading everywhere and eliminating all bacteria, viruses and fungi. Hypersteriliser units are supplied to businesses and institutions across the UK, notably the haematology and other critical units at Salford Royal Hospital, Greater Manchester; Doncaster & Bassetlaw Hospital; South Warwickshire Hospital; Coventry & Warwickshire Hospital; and Queen Victoria Hospital, East Grinstead.The Halo Hypersteriliser system achieves 6-log Sterility Assurance Level – 99.9999% of germs destroyed.It is the only EPA-registered dry mist fogging system – EPA No 84526-6. It is also EU Biocide Article 95 Compliant.
It was brand-new, out the box. A glittering German 4×4, perfect for climbing up kerbs to park on pavements.
A Chelsea tractor, yes, they knew that. So Arthur named it Fergus – they had an old Ferguson tractor rusting by the gate at the farm next door when he was growing up.
Bundle of trouble
The baby was new too. A thumping giant at eight pounds and seven ounces, definitely a rugby player – lock forward at least, maybe even a scrum half.
Gwen chose the name Lance – as it had to be with a Dad called Arthur and living in a house called “Camelot”.
Wow, but the car was amazing to drive. Top of the range, four-and-a-half litres – pure indulgence and why not?
Both of them were at the top of their game, Arthur in the City, Gwen with her own PR outfit. High-earning DINKS (Double Income No Kids) they could afford the odd reward – like the skiing holiday they took in Austria six months before Lance arrived.
Lance was amazing, of course. So intelligent – definitely a transplant surgeon or nuclear physicist.
Reality and babies
Messy though. Every lunch bowl upside down on the floor. Every sterilised bottle dribbling on its side. And the nappies – better not to go there.
It got better when Lance graduated to a drinking mug. Two handles to hold and he liked using it. Best of all, it calmed him down. So Gwen let him have it, strapped in the back seat on the way to the office.
Sign a few cheques, crack a few heads, a quick trip to the park to feed the ducks, and home.
They were on the M25 going great and Lance had his special – a weird mix of formula and blackcurrant, but what the heck, he liked it.
Not all the time though.
Somewhere on the long Surrey stretch between Leatherhead and Chertsey, the mug went upside down on the brushed cloth seat. Gwen knew nothing because Lance was quiet and the whole lot had leaked out when they got to Shepherd’s Bush.
It didn’t mop up and it left a mark.
Worse, on the return trip Lance did a repeat performance with a full load of OJ.
Sponge and detergent when she finally got Lance down. Then the miracle gop when Ocado delivered. It got the stain out. But when she parked in the sun two days later, the residue made the inside as high as a kite.
Germs, germs everywhere
A full-on cyberchondriac Mum, Gwen knew the score. Salmonella, listeria, campylobacter, and e. coli at least. Probably a whole bunch more.
Fergus was an infected death trap on wheels and Lance was in danger.
Fergus went to the dealership to have the seat replaced and Gwen started using taxis. Until some driver gave her lip about kids upchucking in his cab.
More germs, more danger – Arthur had to drive them everywhere strapped in in the Lexus, with Gwen riding shotgun, holding Lance’s bottle while he drank. Less than ideal and a real pain until Fergus came back.
Gwen promised herself, no more drinking mug in the car – the very same afternoon that Lance screamed his lungs out through every inch of a four-and-a-half mile tailback. Another idea that never flew.
The next OJ hit was a day later.
Gwen screamed and climbed on the laptop. Somewhere out in Cyberdom there had to be an answer. Come on Google, make your magic.
The stuff arrived two days later – £8 extra for express delivery.
No smells, no germs
More formula by that stage. And a split milk carton in the luggage space, thrown there in a strop after a barney with some woman in the checkout queue.
She got to it late one afternoon when Lance was down. Shut all the windows, put the can in the car, pressed the button and got out of there. Mist was right, more like fog – the kind that shuts airports down for three days.
Arthur came home in the middle of it. Leapt out of the Lexus scrabbling for the fire extinguisher. “For Pete’s sake, Gwen – your car’s on fire.”
She stopped him just in time. Arm wrestled the extinguisher away from him. Opened the door and let the mist escape out. Strong lemony smell, no trace of sour milk.
She gave it another bash the next day, Supermum on overkill. Again, no trace of sour milk – and the miracle gop took care of the stains. She loaded up Lance, suspicious as hell.
Except the smells were gone and Lance was happy as Larry. No sniffles, no dodgy tummy, full of the joys of spring. Still lethal with the drinking mug of course – Sir Spillalot. They averaged a new hit every one-and-a-half journeys.
Hypersteriliser units are supplied to businesses and institutions across the UK, notably the haematology and other critical units at Salford Royal Hospital, Greater Manchester; Doncaster & Bassetlaw Hospital; South Warwickshire Hospital; Coventry & Warwickshire Hospital; and Queen Victoria Hospital, East Grinstead.
The Halo Hypersteriliser system achieves 6-log Sterility Assurance Level – 99.9999% of germs destroyed.It is the only EPA-registered dry mist fogging system – EPA No 84526-6. It is also EU Biocide Article 95 Compliant.