Ever wondered if packing your scrubs and chasing contracts is worth it? I did. I’m Kayla, a dialysis tech who got itchy feet and went traveling. I’ve run machines in desert heat, tiny mountain hospitals, and cold city basements that smelled like bleach and old coffee. Here’s the good, the rough, and the little stuff no recruiter mentions.
The quick gist (so you can breathe)
- Pay felt solid. My range was $1,700–$2,400 per week with stipends, sometimes more with call.
- Work was steady. Early mornings, fast pace, lots of sticks.
- Housing was hit or miss. Stipend worked best for me.
- Gear matters. Tape, scissors, good shoes. Save your back, save your day.
- Would I do it again? Yes—but not every contract.
Now let me explain how it really felt, shift by shift.
Where I went, what I ran
I started in Phoenix in August. Hot like opening an oven. The clinic ran Fresenius 2008T machines with bicarbonate jugs and acid jugs stacked like a red-and-white wall. I worked 3x12s, then picked up an extra shift because three techs called out in one week. Normal, right? Our patient ratio ran 4:1 at times. Busy, but doable with a solid nurse.
Then winter hit and I jumped to Boston. Old clinic. Tight floor plan. DaVita site using Falcon. Machines were well cared for, but the water room had a carbon tank alarm that loved to chirp right when first shift started lining up. I learned to arrive 20 minutes early and check my logs, RO pressures, and conductivity twice. Saved my skin more than once.
My most intense stop? A rural hospital in Montana. Acute hemo with NxStage in ICU rooms. Nights. I wasn’t alone, but it felt like it at 3 a.m. when the nurse asked for a fast turnaround on a septic patient and the water hookups fought me. Good news: the hospital crew brought coffee and asked real questions. You could tell they cared.
What I actually did every day
Same core work, new twist each place:
- Pre-flight checks on water and machines. Conductivity, temp, chlorine/chloramine logs. AAMI standards were the rule, not a suggestion.
- Priming lines, mixing bicarb, swapping acid jugs, checking dialyzer lot numbers.
- Cannulation on AV fistulas and grafts. Rope-ladder most days. Buttonhole only when it was an existing track.
- Permcath care with nurses nearby. Clear roles mattered. Some sites let techs assist more, some kept it tight.
- Heparin doses, saline flushes, venous and arterial pressures watched like a hawk.
- Post-treatment rinse-back, hemostasis, dressing checks, and clean-downs that left my hands so dry I kept lotion in my pocket.
Charting? I saw Falcon, Epic, and a homegrown system that looked like Windows ’95. I made cheat sheets for hotkeys. Small thing. Big time saver.
Pay, agencies, and the money stuff no one says out loud
My agencies were Aya Healthcare and American Mobile. I also worked a Fresenius traveler contract tied to their own sites. Pay varied by city and urgency. My best weekly total hit around $2,600 with overtime and call. My lowest was about $1,600 in a sleepy town with low census. For anyone trying to benchmark their own offers, AMN Healthcare keeps an updated look at travel dialysis technician salaries and outlines the typical day-to-day responsibilities—handy when you’re negotiating or sanity-checking a quote.
Housing stipends beat company housing for me. I rented short-term places on furnished listings and asked for a washer, decent AC, and safe parking. Non-negotiable after my gnat-filled studio in Phoenix (ask me about that AC unit… no, don’t).
Taxes? Keep every receipt. Meals, mileage between sites, scrubs. I used a simple spreadsheet and a scanning app. Not cute, but it worked. When I wanted a quick snapshot of what other dialysis techs were earning in the same city, I’d pull up ValidTravel and sanity-check my offer before I signed. If you’re curious how travel compares on the nursing side, check out this candid first-person review of LPN travel jobs—it gave me great benchmarks when I negotiated.
Credentials and hoops
I hold CCHT. I’ve also done a BLS renewal more times than I’ve blinked. Every contract wanted:
- CCHT or BONENT CHT
- BLS card
- Hep B titers, TB test, fit test records
- Skills checklist and references
Some states wanted a state tech permit. HR would ping me for it late on a Friday—of course. I kept a digital folder ready. If you need a clear, bulletproof list of what most facilities expect, AHS RenalStat lays out the core requirements for travel dialysis technicians along with tips for getting paperwork squared away fast.
Orientation ranged from great to “you’ll figure it out.” Outpatient usually gave me 2–3 days. Acute sometimes threw me in after one shift but paired me with a vet for the first call night. If you hate fast starts, say so early.
Real moments that stuck with me
- Mr. J in Phoenix had a beautiful fistula that rolled like a fish. I used a shallow angle, warmed the site, and slowed my hand. He said no one listened to him about the roll. We got a clean stick. He smiled. Made my week.
- Boston winter storm. We ran patients early and called rides. A nurse brought in muffins and hand warmers. My toes thawed right as the carbon tank alarm sang again. We laughed because what else can you do?
- Montana ICU night. Young patient. Scared mom. I talked through every beep. My voice shook once. I kept going. We got through the run without a crash. I sat in the break room and cried for two minutes, then did my next check. That’s the job.
What I loved
- New teams, new tricks. I learned Gambro quirks at one site and shaved minutes off turnaround at the next.
- The patients. They teach you. They also roast you if your tape job is sloppy. Fair.
- The rush of getting a tough stick on a rough day and hearing, “Didn’t even feel it.”
What made me groan
- Call schedules that looked chill on paper and flipped on day one.
- Short staffing. You feel it in your knees by noon.
- Charting systems that lag just when you need to print a label.
- Housing that’s “near” the clinic… if you enjoy 45 minutes of traffic and one scary left turn.
Gear I won’t travel without
- Microfoam tape, paper tape, and bandage scissors
- Alcohol pads and a small penlight
- Black Sharpie for jug labels and dialyzer marks
- Compression socks and a backup pair of insoles
- A lunch I can eat in 6 minutes, because, well, you know how it goes
On the rare nights when my shift ended early and I found myself in a brand-new city with zero friends, I discovered that having a fast way to meet locals made the whole travel gig feel less lonely. Dropping into FuckLocal let me line up no-strings coffee dates or low-key hangouts wherever my contract took me, giving me a quick social recharge so I could head back to the clinic focused and refreshed. For assignments that landed me just south of Boston, I learned that Quincy has its own after-hours vibe, and browsing AdultLook Quincy connected me to vetted local spots and companions, sparing me the trial-and-error of hunting down safe, discreet venues on my own time.
Who should try it
If you like early starts, don’t spook at alarms, and enjoy meeting new crews, it fits. If change drains you, or you want a steady home unit and long bonds, a local clinic might feel better. Both paths are real. Neither is “less.” For more perspective on a completely different allied role, this honest look at life as a travel medical assistant is worth a read.
My bottom line
Travel dialysis tech work stretched me. It paid me well. It humbled me too. Some days felt golden. Some felt like pushing a boulder uphill while the RO yelled at me.
Would I sign another contract? Yes. With clear terms, a housing plan, and a promise to myself to say no when the load gets unsafe.
Call it 4 out of 5 stars. Not perfect. Very real. And when a patient says, “Thanks for taking care of me,” it lands. Every time.
You’ve got questions? I probably had the same ones in a snowy parking lot at 5 a.m., coffee cooling on the dash. And still, I showed up. That’s the job. And, honestly, that’s why I liked it.