What is an intensive care specialist?

It is with the majority, those who look at me blankly, with no lived experience of intensive care, that I fumble the answer. After the pause, the absence of recognition, I try to explain intensive care. I am not good at this, and the same pattern plays out. Enthusiastic mistaken identity on their part, confusing description of disease and logistics by me, then divergent images of my working life. Enthusiastic mistaken identity that I am a surgeon, emergency physician, or cardiologist. “You’re not operating today?”, “I was in emergency with my daughter last week, you must see some wild things”, “My mother had a stent in her heart with you”. It is tempting to simply nod, leave them with the certainty of assigning me a respectable identity. Before I burst the bubble, I briefly and fondly recall my son’s primary school assembly many years ago. Showing the early signs of a persistent flair with microphone and crowd, he confidently announced to the assembled Year 4 students that his dad was an intensive care doctor, a man who saves lives by operating on hearts and brains. As the applause engulfed me, I halfheartedly considered the complexities of setting the record straight. Then I smiled, nodded, soaked in the adoration, and everyone was happy.