I know some of you have agencies located in grand buildings or
decorated in such a way that you can put a client in the mood for
sightseeing before he leaves your office.
But how often do you see a doctor's office in a grand building
that looks like a sightseeing attraction in its own right?
When I require travel-related inoculations, I walk a few blocks
to the office of Dr. Bradley Connor, a travel medicine specialist
who is on the executive board of the International Society of
Travel Medicine.
His office is in a large townhouse that was built as a family
home from 1914 to 1918. It is the size of a small palazzo; its
architect also designed New York's Riverside Church and the
Cloisters Museum.
The house now accommodates the Center for Specialty Care, which
means doctors from a variety of disciplines see patients there.
On entering the building, the first view is of a central atrium
and a circular, very grand staircase.
To the right of the entry is a small concierge desk for signing
in, and to the left is a waiting area shared by patients of several
doctors.
That waiting area is a parlor with a fireplace and furnishings
that harmonize with the building's architectural style.
The front parlor on the third floor also is a shared waiting
area, and it is the space intended for Dr. Connor's patients, among
others.
What an elegant, nonmedicinal introduction to a doctor's
office!
On my most recent visit, the consultation, with Judith Shipley,
who is the clinical coordinator of travel health services for Dr.
Connor, was in a long, high-ceilinged room with tall windows facing
the street and accessible through a gigantic arched door.
This had been the billiard room.
I am an incurable tourist. When I left, I walked down the two
flights on the grand staircase so I could stop on the second floor
to look at a gallery of photos taken of various rooms in the house
when it was still a private residence.
All of this is not to say that there are no typical medical
offices with examining tables and all the rest of it. They are
there, too; they are just not as interesting to write about.
Judith requires her clients (she doesn't call us patients; after
all, we are not sick) to lie down for inoculations.
It seems quite a few people faint when they get multiple needle
jabs.
I suppose a fainting spell can be embarrassing, more so if the
fainter is preparing for an adventurous trip to the far corners of
the earth.
Also, Judith told me, most of the fainters are men.
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