interaction

Let me slide needles into your flesh. Let me put my hands on your skin. Let me press into your aches and pains and ask you if it hurts. Let me slice into you with knives and scissors.

Tell me about your pain. Let me ask you about your secrets, your addictions, the last time you bled or shat or felt this way. Tell me about your family. Answer honestly.

I see about 20 patients during a 10 hour night shift in ER. I usually meet them with a resigned expression; I'm tired, the last patient was a dick, something smells bad, and I could really use a coffee. And then I violate them. I ask them questions I wouldn't ask my partner. I touch them in places I wouldn't touch my own child.

Most of the time, I try to be pleasant and positive; patients are less likely to make your night hell if you communicate well and explain what you're doing. But sometimes, at 3am, you dissociate from yourself and think, "Jesus. I just met you, and this is crazy. But here's my ID, now let me stab you..."

Carly Rae Jepsen may be on the radio during this moment.

Night shifts are done for 2012. The next challenges are working ER during New Years, then going to work with the Orthopods in fracture clinic. And what to do with oneself during a Monday off in cold, rainy Toronto.