Tales Of Clinic

I have in the decade-and-a-bit since I left the city in which I was born been mistaken for Irish (a lot), Indian (casual racism in the general direction of call centre staff, which was my old job), “from New England” (by a Canadian), and Scandinavian (yesterday).

Occasionally, someone gets it right. For example, when, as is usual for me these days, we have been talking at some length about their cancer.

 Beth: Your bloods all look quite good, and…

Patient: *develops fit of giggles*

Beth: Um?

Patient: Oh, gosh, I am sorry, but it’s like I’m talking to Sarah Millican.


In which I am minding my own business as I dictate letters and inhale coffee.

Nurse: Oh, excellent! Oh, I just saw you there, Doctor, and I was reminded of sputum!



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