Whether you have insurance or not, whether you're in the worst pain you've every felt in your life or not, it always seems like an extra hassle to get better sooner, because that means waiting for an hour, filling out paper work. Talking. Everyone hates going to the doctor's office.

Except me.

Even in a fevered delusion, I'm in love with the sterile smells of the office and the waiting rooms. I actually like the taste of tongue depressors, once they're thrown out and can't get me anymore. Most of all, I'm in love with the subtle colour choices. It seems that you will never see those same soft teals and browns anywhere else in the world.

The psychology behind the choices is fairly transparent. When sick, no one wants a stronger headache from an over-powering red. Yellow can be dizzying with stimulus. Choices are almost always in the cool area of the spectrum, and softly muted versions of those colours. Even under the harsh, bright UV lights, everything seems clean and calm.

In my latest visit, where I basically diagnosed myself before even going, my hour long stay was a casual wandering of the eye, from cherry wood doors to the soft green curtains with an inlaid fern design. Even the lighted scope used to look in the ears and mouth isn't brazenly white, but a softer cream. The ceiling always seems to be one of those dropped ceilings with thousands of dots on them to count, and to think there are designs in. And that's always white, too, isn't it? But the bed-chairs I've found are always a deep cream coloured. Soft leather, too, with a stripe of white paper down the centre. All of this to receive a prescription for the blazing pink of imoxicillin.

Put in mind of hospital rooms and doctor's offices, what colours do you remember?

Here's a palette I made recalling colours from my latest visit on the journey to feeling better.

What colours do you think of when you hear the words 'hospital' or 'doctor?'

Share your creations here.