It’s 2am.  The fast track is closing.  So are the bars.  I’m pretty sure I can hear my patients, off in the distance, making their way towards me.

Before long they arrive.  Among others, we have a college guy with a cut on his arm.

“You were in a bar fight?” I ask, looking down at the chart.

No no no, I’m corrected, I was breaking up a bar fight.

“Ah yes, of course, breaking up a bar fight,” I say, nodding, as I remember from my experiences in the ER that clearly there are small armies of good samaritans out there acting on conscience alone, desperately trying to maintain peace and order in our community.  There are far fewer misanthropes actually causing the violence in the first place.  It’s a real mystery as to why this is, but obviously I sleep better at night knowing that it’s true.

Still, I like him.  He tells me he’s not sure how much he’s had to drink, but he emphasizes that it was alot, which is funny and refreshing for its honesty.  He’s slurring but he’s pleasant and apologetic.  He has a running dialogue with his buddy who’s in a similar state.

“Maybe I shouldn’t have even come in.”

“It’s too messed up.”

“Lemme see your arm,” I say.

It’s pretty messed up.  There’s a gaping wound about 3 inches long on the underside of his left forearm.

“Should I have even come in?” he asks me for maybe the fifth time.

“Let me see what I can do,” I say.

No glass inside the laceration, and his arm remains in working order.  I get comfortable, knowing it’s going to take awhile to fix, and start sewing it up.

He’s watching intently at first, but gets distracted in conversation with his friend.  As I’m finishing, they start to get hungry.

“Dude,” he says to his buddy, “we should get some pancakes.”

“Oh dude,” he replies, “we should totally get some pancakes.”

“Are you almost done?” he asks, looking down at me putting in the last stitch.

“Holy crap,” he says, marvelling, “that looks amazing.”

I think it looks decent, but decide who am I to argue.

“Dude, let me get you some pancakes.”

No, no I say, it’s alright.

“Dude, seriously, you have to let me get you some pancakes.”

Sometimes I kinda miss college.