The nice thing about emergency medicine is you can leave work at work.  No taking call, no worrying about a pager going off.  You’re responsible for all of it while you’re there and none of it when you leave.

Except I’m finding this isn’t entirely true.  The longer I do this, the more I find myself looking at the world not like the just-some-guy I’ve always been, but instead with ER doctor eyes. 

When I see a guy leaving a convenience store with twelve beers, a pack of cigarettes, and a who-knows-how-old hot dog, I think I’ll be seeing you someday one way or another.

When I see James Thompson’s ear swell up against Kimbo Slice I think hey an auricular hematoma and what I might do to fix it.

When my visiting one year-old niece went missing for a minute or so, I immediately began thinking about the ABC’s.

When I’m out dealing with people in no particular hurry, moving at half speed, I wonder if they’d be upset if they were in the ER and I was moving at their pace.

When I see a trampoline I think about kids with broken arms.

When I see an ATV I think about kids with cracked skulls.

When I pull leftovers of some indeterminate age from the fridge I think downside bad vomiting and diarrhea and throw them out every single time.

When I change a lightbulb, I always think of the guy I saw in the ER who was doing the same, squeezed a little too tightly, and tore his hand to shreads.

When I was up on my roof putting up Christmas lights, I kept thinking how there was a distinct chance I’d end up in an ER and I’d be starting the story by saying “well I was up on my roof putting up Christmas lights.”

When JD on Scrubs got upset with an intern for giving an ACE inhibitor to a pregnant patient, I thought internists don’t take care of pregnant patients.

When I went kayaking and saw cows on the river bank, I got closer but not too close because, you know, what if one of them slipped and fell on me.

I’m telling you I can’t help it, it’s like a reflex.