The Bahamian seawater burned his skin when he waded in. As we watched his wide-legged waddle out of the water across the sugary sand back towards our room, my emergency physician partner joked: “I have our exit strategy.”

He wasn’t talking about getting out of the ocean to follow my son. “We could make a rash cream to sell at all these resorts. People would buy it, and we could retire.”

Dreaming up exit strategies is not uncommon among doctors these days. My partner and I have a running dialogue in which we entertain each other with ideas for getting out of medicine.

Last month, it was avocado farming. Before that, it had been a doughnut shop, an arcade-bar, and a craft honey boutique. Or there’s always the lottery.