You Might Be a Medic If… Things Doctors Say in Normal Conversations Without Realizing It When Clinical Lingo Escapes the Hospital and Enters Everyday Life You’re grabbing coffee with friends when someone says they feel tired, and you casually suggest they “rule out anemia.” Or you see a toddler face-plant in the park and instinctively say, “They self-resolved.” If you’ve ever heard yourself speak in full-on clinical jargon while off-duty — and didn’t realize until everyone stared at you — congratulations: you might be a medic. Doctors, nurses, paramedics, and other healthcare professionals have a way of letting medicine sneak into their everyday language. It’s not intentional. It’s not even about showing off. It’s just that medicine rewires your brain. After years of study, night shifts, and documentation, medical speak becomes second nature. Here’s a compilation of hilarious, endearing, and completely unintentional things medics say in normal conversations — and why we just can’t help ourselves. “What’s the differential?” — When Someone Mentions a Headache To a non-medical person, a headache is a headache. To a medic, it could be tension, dehydration, temporal arteritis, a brain bleed, or an unspoken cry for caffeine. Translation: We’re not overreacting. We’re just trained to think in branching trees. “That escalated to a full code.” — Describing Drama in a Group Chat Whether it’s a breakup, a work argument, or a friendship imploding, medics instinctively describe social drama using triage terms. “It started as a consult and turned into a code.” Because obviously, everything can be charted by acuity. “I was tachy after that espresso.” — Talking About a Caffeine Rush Why say “I was jittery” when you could say “my HR jumped to 120 bpm”? Bonus points if you pulled out your smartwatch to confirm. Non-medics will smile politely while mentally Googling “tachy.” “It’s benign.” — Talking About Anything Mildly Concerning Whether it’s a weird mole, a noise in the car, or a friend’s new haircut, medics love the word “benign.” It’s our way of saying “not serious” — medically or socially. “He’s hemodynamically stable.” — On Your Partner Not Crying During a Movie We sometimes forget we’re not in the ICU. That moment your spouse doesn’t react to a plot twist, and you mutter, “Still hemodynamically stable,” you’ve officially crossed over. “Let’s not over-diagnose this.” — In Any Minor Disagreement Someone’s annoyed, and you want to de-escalate. What do you say? Not “calm down” — you say, “Let’s not over-diagnose this.” It sounds rational. Scientific. Deceptively polite. Very doctor-core. “Do you need a PRN nap?” — Talking to Your Toddler Medical parents tend to treat their kids like tiny patients. They’ll say things like “PRN” instead of “as needed” and casually assess poop consistency as if documenting bowel charts. “Let’s monitor and reassess in 2 hours.” Yes, you’re parenting… clinically. “I just need 500 cc of caffeine.” — At 7 a.m. or Post-Night Shift Coffee isn’t measured in cups. It’s measured in volume, like IV fluids. And if someone gets you a tall latte instead of a venti? That’s basically underdosing. “I need a stat solution for this.” — Solving Non-Medical Problems Whether the WiFi’s down or your friend forgot their passport, you find yourself demanding “urgent intervention” and forming a plan in SOAP format. Because in your brain, everything has an HPI, assessment, and plan. “He has strong deltoids.” — Complimenting a Friend’s Gym Progress We don’t say “he’s fit.” We say “his scapular stability is impressive.” We don’t say “she’s flexible.” We say “solid ligamentous laxity.” Apparently, we never really left anatomy class. “That’s a Grade I sprain, you’ll live.” — Comforting the Injured Empathy? Yes. Coddling? Never. If someone twists an ankle, you assess severity like a sideline medic and instantly downplay it. “You’re weight-bearing. It’s stable. Just RICE it.” “You need lifestyle modifications.” — Telling a Friend to Sleep More Rather than saying, “Dude, go to bed,” medics reach for the full preventive medicine lecture — with bonus references to circadian rhythm and cortisol cycles. The delivery is unintentionally clinical. But it comes from love. “Their vibes are off — possibly hypoglycemia or low iron.” We don’t call it a bad mood. We call it symptomatic. Then we try to fix it. With food. Or a CBC. Or possibly electrolytes. And then we say, “Let me know if it doesn’t resolve in 6 hours.” “This date feels like a psych OSCE.” — After a Weird First Encounter Dating as a medical professional means filtering everything through a clinical lens. Are they answering questions directly? Making eye contact? Showing insight? Welcome to the neuropsychiatric assessment of love. Why Do We Talk Like This? Habit: Medical training is intense and immersive. Clinical phrasing becomes muscle memory. Mental compartmentalization: Using medical language helps us detach or analyze without being overwhelmed. Efficiency: Saying “tachy” is faster than “I felt a rapid heart rate.” Coping mechanism: Jargon can lighten heavy topics and make us feel in control. It’s not about being pretentious. It’s how we think. And sometimes, that language spills over. How Non-Medics React (and Why It’s Funny) Confusion: “What does ‘febrile personality’ mean?” Concern: “Did you just say you were hypotensive after a breakup?” Curiosity: “Do you talk like this with everyone?” Acceptance: “Okay, Dr. Terminology. Can you pass the salt stat?” Most non-medical partners, friends, and family members eventually learn to translate. Or they roll with it. A Love Language, Doctor-Style We say, “Hydrate or die-drate.” We say, “You’re in my top differentials.” We say, “I monitor you more than my ICU patients.” It’s weird. But it’s our way of caring. Signs You Might Be a Medic (Even Off-Duty): You’ve described pizza as “artery-clogging but worth the risk.” You assess people’s gait at the grocery store. You diagnose your cat with “idiopathic rage disorder.” You’ve said “in situ” during home improvement. You call naps “REM cycle optimization.” You’re Not Alone — And That’s the Best Part Talking like a medic outside of medicine can feel alienating… until you meet someone who does the same. Suddenly, “PRN coffee” and “code-level stress” become an inside joke. And in a profession where burnout is real and identity gets blurry, sometimes talking like a medic — even in normal life — is the most human thing we do.