Who would you rather be treated by? An
exceptionally gifted diagnostician who is
completely committed to your wellbeing,
or a burnt out cynic who is not
interested in you at all? And would it
change things if one was wearing ripped
jeans, while the other was in a suit? It's a
silly question of course. You wouldn't last
very long in the health service in ripped
jeans.
So do clothes matter? Well yes they
do. Many patients say that they do not
like the relaxing of hospital uniforms, as
they cannot easily tell who is who on a
ward. More than this, though, some
people also have what I call the "serial
killer in a suit syndrome." A friend of
mine is convinced that her father would
describe Slobodan Milosevic as a "nice
young man" just as long as he was
wearing a Marks & Spencer shirt and tie.
To such people, the sight of a sloppily
dressed doctor may cause distress
sufficient to induce physical symptoms.
I have no problem with this, and am
happy to conform to the expected
standards. It's like the rule of tattoos. No
one with a tattoo objects to those who
don't have them, but some people who
don't have them find their presence
offensive. If you work with the public you
must bear this in mind. Indeed it was for
this very reason that I decided to get "I
love Mum" and "Chelsea Forever"
removed from my forehead before filling
in a university application form.
At the start of our clinical rotations,
we were called in for a pep talk with a
few do's and don'ts for the wards. I
remember us all sitting there in our
preclinical uniform of T shirts and jeans,
and being told to apply the "mum test"
to our appearance. That is, to always
consider whether our mothers would
approve of our choice of outfit.
But then I started to think about
some of the mums I know. There's one
who wears leathers and dreams of
owning a Harley Davidson, another who
paints flowers and butterflies on all her
dresses, and, of course, my own "mother
in law," who doesn't trust conformists but
does have a large Volkswagen Beetle
tattooed on her left buttock.