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It all started in Dennis’s first year of med school. Dennis was sitting in the front row of his Introduction to Emergency Medicine class, an older man he had never seen before was leaning against the professor’s desk, just chatting. Once the class got settled, the professor took her place at the podium, pulling up a PowerPoint that said “Guest Lecture”.
“Good morning, everyone.” A ripple of greetings follows. “Today we’re welcoming a guest lecturer, Dr. Michael Robinavitch, or Dr. Robby. He’s an attending physician in the emergency department at Pittsburgh Trauma Medical Center, and a dear friend. Please give him your undivided attention.”
Dennis turns his attention to the guest, Dr. Robby, only to be met with one of the most beautiful men he’s ever seen. If he weren’t already 100% confident that he had a thing for older men, Dr. Robby would have certainly confirmed that for him.
“Hello, everyone.” Robby smiles warmly. “Thank you for letting me take over your class today. I wanted to start by introducing myself a little. As Elaine said, my name is Dr. Robby. I have been practicing medicine for longer than most of you have been alive, give or take a few years.” Robby laughs, which makes a few students chuckle. “Today I wanted to talk about what a ‘typical’ day looks like in the ED. Which actually brings me to my first point.”
Robby leans his elbows on the podium, looking across the class. Dennis may be kidding himself a little, but he swears the man’s gaze lingers on him for a second.
“Who here has heard of Murphy’s law?” Dennis raises his hand slightly. Dr. Robby nods at him to go ahead.
“It’s the idea that anything that can go wrong will go wrong,” Dennis says softly. Dr. Robby smiles at him, nodding.
“Correct. Murphy’s law originated from aerospace engineer Edward A. Murphy Jr. in the mid-20th century. He was working on a project for the Air Force, testing the effects of G-force on the human body. His words, ‘Anything that can go wrong will go wrong,’ were precautionary— a reminder to double-check everything to ensure the test subject’s safety.” Robby looks around to make sure everyone is following what he’s saying.
“I mention this because in the emergency department, a lot will go wrong, most of it not your fault. You have to be adaptable, but you also have to be thorough and cautious. Check, double check, get second and even third opinions. This is something medical school can’t teach you.
“So with that in mind. A ‘typical’ day in the ER,” he repeats, amused. “Here’s the thing: there is no ‘typical day’. If anyone ever tells you they know what their shift is going to look like, they’re lying.” A few students laugh; Robby smiles.
“In emergency medicine, we live in the land of chaos theory. Every day is different. Every hour is different. You can walk in at 7 a.m. with a coffee in your hand thinking you’ll catch up on charting, and five minutes later you’re elbow-deep in a trauma code.” He paces a little at the front of the room, warming into the rhythm.
“You’ll have days where you see sprained ankles, migraines, and minor cuts. You’ll think, ‘Hey, this isn’t so bad.’ And then the EMS radio goes off, and suddenly you’ve got three traumas arriving at once—a motorcycle crash, a fall from a roof, and a stroke alert. The trick isn’t predicting what’s coming. You can’t. The trick is being ready for anything.” Robby pauses for effect.
“This is why I tell every student: flexibility is your greatest tool. You’re not learning a script. You’re learning patterns, priorities, and how to pivot.”
He gestures lightly toward the class. “What I want you to remember about emergency medicine is this: the ER is the front door of the hospital. People don’t schedule emergencies. They walk in terrified, confused, angry, hurting, or all of the above.”
His tone softens. “So your job is to adapt. Quickly. Compassionately. Confidently, even when you don’t feel confident yet.”
He leans back against the podium again, relaxed but earnest.
“One minute, you might be counseling a scared teenager about a panic attack. Next, you’re leading CPR on someone who just collapsed in the lobby. And right after that, you’re reassuring a patient who only needed reassurance.”
He chuckles. “That’s the beauty and the curse of the ER. You see everything. Every human experience. Every level of crisis.”
“Now I want to invite you guys to ask questions. They can be entirely irrelevant, any questions that you may have regarding emergency medicine, and I’ll do my best to answer them.”
Dennis watches Robby easily answer the questions thrown at him, admiring the level of education and enthusiasm he has for emergency medicine. Dennis decides to take a chance; he was never one to raise his hand in class, he typically just googled any questions he had. Dennis raises his hand. Robby smiles at him. “Yes?” he asks.
“Um, when did you realize that the ED was where you were meant to be?” Robby’s smile grows wider.
“No one’s ever asked me that. What’s your name?” he asks Dennis.
“Dennis Whitaker, sir.” Robby smiles at him.
“I think it was Ms. Gwyn. She was an elderly woman who came in with chest pain during one of my first rotations. All of her scans came back fine, her vitals were strong, there appeared to be nothing wrong with her, but I just couldn’t shake this gut feeling, so I sat down and had a conversation with her. It was in that conversation that I learned her husband of fifty years had just passed. They were high school sweethearts, best friends and were never able to have kids. It was then that I realized she just needed someone to talk to, and if I could be that person, I was happy to listen. She left feeling much better, and I left work that day with an open invitation to Thanksgiving and Christmas dinner, even though I’m Jewish. Both of which became a tradition for the next decade until she passed. I realized that day that even in their darkest times, I could brighten someone's day.”
Dennis contemplates Robby’s words. The sentiment stirred something in him. Dennis still hasn’t decided where he wants to end up, but after hearing Dr. Robby’s story, maybe Emergency medicine wasn’t so bad.