Zoe Ash investigates the neurologist's bag and explains what you can tell about these specialists by the state of their toolkit

You may know well the favourite game of many doctors: "I want you to tell me the diagnosis of the next patient within five seconds." (It is always Parkinson's disease.) I want to introduce the same game applied to doctors themselves. During a recent special study module in neurology, I realised how instantly recognisable a senior neurologist is. Not, you may be surprised, by their hair or choice of tie, but by "the bag."

At some time in their training, a neurologist purchases a capacious bag in which to store the tools of the trade. No one is ever quite sure how neurologists fill these bags, only the basics are known: there is always a ophthalmoscope, designed to bring terror into the eyes of any medical student invited to "tell me what you see." Then out come the fancy tendon hammer, red hat pins, neurotips, tuning fork, and odd piece of cotton wool for the favourite corneal reflex. This leaves much room for speculation about what else might be contained in the bag. Maybe the subject is better left alone.

It may be that neurologists do indeed need more instruments than any other specialist, perhaps they are called to more consults around the hospital. But it is strange that although others manage with just a stethoscope round the neck (the tourniquet is abandoned when they have sufficient junior colleagues), neurologists can be spotted by the bag carried with them wherever they go. Clinics may provide similar instruments, but it is so much easier to work with your own.

During my neurology attachment, I became intrigued by this status symbol, by the relevance it has to the medical hierarchy. You see, they seem to be an essential purchase around the time you are applying hopefully for specialist registrar posts. At this point, along with the eager look upon the face and the vast expanse of knowledge recently acquired for exams, the scent of new leather will also accompany the trainee. As the registrar becomes more senior and experienced, so also does the bag, becoming more world weary and worn in, like a good pair of shoes. The correlation between grade of doctor and appearance of the bag continues. As new consultants wear their suit jacket proudly, the bag ages gracefully. Once you have found a bag that suits the purpose so well, it would be a shame to replace it so it becomes more worn at the edges, the odd strap hanging off forlornly, even a few small holes. To buy a new bag seems a taboo never to be broken, after all it is your trustiest ally, the one who has been with you through everything.

Perhaps it is time for retirement when your trusty bag gives up the ghost. If that is the case, any budding neurologists should take heed and only buy a bag of the very best quality. Some of these modern products last but a few years.