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Waiting to treat some Royal gout

I am keenly awaiting my first consultation with royalty. It doesn’t necessarily need to be The Queen. Anyone of the princes or princesses will do nicely.

I am keenly awaiting my first consultation with royalty. It doesn't necessarily need to be The Queen. Anyone of the princes or princesses will do nicely.

For example, I'd be delighted to treat some royal gout. Perhaps there's a minor indulgence or two in the nobility that I could handle with discrete confidence?

The reason for my expectation is my current place of work. Without giving too much away, there's a castle visible from the top of the hill. This is why I'm practicing my bows.

Despite the disappointing lack of royalty to date, the patient body as a whole has been surprisingly genteel. Genteel is probably not the precise word. What I'm struggling to express is the fact that they're all, more or less, a good bunch. Speaking as a newly qualified GP, it has repeatedly struck me as odd and intriguing that a surgery's patient population can take on a general, mass character.

I'm sure that economics plays a small role, as of course does physical location. This surgery is unlikely to attract any farmers. But in regards to wealth or lack thereof, there are a few neighbourhoods slightly downwind of the castle that are significantly more grim. Not that you'd have to reverse park for speedy getaway anywhere, but still quite a bit more muddy.

And also not to say that they are all perfect. I saw a husband & wife team yesterday. The wife came in first, and kept her dark glasses on throughout. She explained that she had booked herself in first just to explain to me that her other half was becoming increasingly erratic and argumentative. She then sailed out and brought him along in tow.

I promptly had an argument with both. At the end of which she stood up, smiled brightly, told me to take some deep breaths, and dragged him out. I stood by the window, doing as instructed, and watched them climb in to a bright yellow sports car in the car park. Must be something about people who drive bright yellow cars.

I have had virtually no drug-seeking behaviour. My pad of Med 3's has hardly left its drawer.

I did have one patient who gave me goose bumps in a most unpleasant way. Scrolling down through the notes I saw that following a recent consultation the patient in question went out and assaulted the vehicles in the car park. This person, however, remains the exception.

So, there remains relatively little to report. Let me then finish then with a not-so-hypothetical question which may or may not be derived from recent clinical experience: If you were a young woman who had left the house that morning with the primary aim of showing the doctor a lesion on your leg, what would you wear?

Would you, perhaps, wear thigh high leather boots, tight trousers, and then announce nearing the end of what can almost be described as the dance of the seven veils, that you weren't actually wearing any underwear?

Thought not. But then it seems to take all types.

Geoff Tipper

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