I love coffee. It is wonderful. It is the sweet nectar of 6.30am alarm clocks and three hour lectures. My blog isn’t called becoming a doctor one cup of coffee at a time because I thought that it sounded like a snappy title, and my seventy-third thing (people who suggest that I should try giving up coffee [for Lent] are underestimating how much of a raging bitch I would be without my coffee) isn’t actually a joke.
In my world, there are four types of outpatient clinic:
1) The type where they take a proper break. There will be much coffee and a tray of nice things from the wee cafe, and the consultants will try to persuade you to take just one more cake. I have come across only one such clinic (and liked it so much that I went back five times).
2) The type where coffee is inhaled during the clinic. This category is very broad. It includes any clinics where the first question anyone asks when you arrive is how you take your coffee, any clinics where someone brings in a coffee for you halfway through the list, and any clinics where you are simply pointed at the kettle and told to help yourself. In the nicer ones, there are sometimes biscuits. This accounts for almost all of the outpatient clinics I have ever been to.
3) The type where there is no coffee. These are quite often fracture clinics.
4) The type where they take a proper break but are apparently not that keen on medical students. The consultant drinks his coffee and eats his ginger snap while the four medical students are not allowed such things and must sit, coffeeless and biscuitless, and watch him. This type of clinic is also known as the sixth circle of hell.
Now playing: The Hilliard Ensemble – Ave Maris Stella