The Pressure of the ER

Working in emergency medicine for nearly three decades has taught me a lot about people, pressure, and the unpredictable nature of life. It’s a job where you never know what’s coming through the door next—a heart attack, a car crash, a scared child with a high fever. You have to be sharp, calm, and ready to make split-second decisions. And you carry those moments home with you. The weight doesn’t just vanish when you take off the white coat.

Over the years, I’ve learned that if I don’t take care of my own mental and physical well-being, I’m no good to my patients—or to my family. That’s why I’ve leaned heavily on two outlets that keep me grounded: playing guitar and staying consistent in the gym. They’re simple, steady routines that remind me I’m more than just a doctor. They remind me I’m human.

Six Strings of Sanity

The guitar has been part of my life for a long time. I’m not a rock star by any stretch, but there’s something calming about picking up the instrument after a long shift. Playing guitar allows me to disconnect from the noise of the hospital and reconnect with myself. After a tough day, sitting down with a familiar tune or learning a new one helps me process what I’ve seen without having to say a word.

There’s also something therapeutic about the physicality of it—your hands moving across the fretboard, the rhythm of strumming, the way the strings vibrate. It demands just enough focus to pull your mind out of the stress without overwhelming you. For me, it’s not about performing or even improving. It’s about finding peace in the repetition, melody, and quiet. Some nights, it’s five minutes. Other times, it’s a full hour. Either way, it brings balance.

The Gym: Releasing the Weight I Carry

Emergency medicine doesn’t just challenge your mind—it wears on your body. Long hours on your feet, high adrenaline, interrupted sleep cycles. Staying physically strong isn’t just about health; it’s about endurance. That’s why hitting the gym has become a non-negotiable part of my weekly rhythm.

Lifting weights, breaking a sweat, pushing through a workout—it’s not glamorous, but it’s powerful. The gym is one of the few places where the problems are simple and the results are clear. You lift the weight or you don’t. You run the mile or you don’t. There’s clarity in that.

More importantly, the gym gives me a sense of control. In a profession where so much is uncertain, that sense of control is a gift. The discipline required to show up—especially after a night shift—is part of what keeps me steady. It helps me sleep better, think clearer, and show up fully for the people who need me.

Tuning In and Powering Through

Guitar and the gym may seem like small things in the grand scheme of a demanding career, but they’ve been lifelines. They give me something to look forward to outside of medicine. They help me stay connected to who I am beyond the hospital walls. When you’re in a high-stress job, it’s easy to let it consume your identity. These practices remind me that I’m not just “Dr. Endfinger”—I’m also Chris, a guy who loves music and still enjoys pushing through a solid workout.

There’s also a spiritual element to both. Playing music often feels like a quiet form of prayer. It calms my heart. The gym, in its own way, is a form of discipline and gratitude. Every rep is a reminder that I still have strength, that I’ve been given another day, and that I’m responsible for stewarding my health just like I care for others.

Passing It On

I’ve tried to pass on these habits to my children too. Not necessarily the guitar or the weight room itself, but the idea of finding something that grounds you. Life will throw all kinds of pressures at them—just like it has at me—but having something steady to return to makes a difference. You don’t have to be great at it. You just have to show up for it. Whether that’s music, running, woodworking, or prayer—find something that helps you breathe deeply again.

Now that I’m a grandfather, I think about legacy in a new way. What I hope James sees in me someday is a man who served others with passion, but who also knew how to pause, reflect, and rest. I want him to know that it’s okay to work hard and still need time to recharge. That taking care of yourself isn’t selfish—it’s necessary.

Emergency medicine will always be demanding. It’s a profession that stretches you physically, mentally, and emotionally. But I believe that’s what makes it meaningful. And to stay in it for the long haul—to give patients the care they deserve—you have to find ways to refuel. For me, that’s been guitar strings and gym reps.

These routines don’t solve every problem, but they help me stay rooted. They give me space to breathe, to think, and to feel normal in a world that often isn’t. They’ve helped me survive some of the hardest moments in my career, and they continue to shape how I show up for the next one.

In the chaos of the ER, it’s easy to lose yourself. But with a little music, a little sweat, and a lot of grace—you can find your center again.