Doctors like blood.

Doctors like blood. They must, otherwise they would not always have their hands in it, regretting that hygiene protocols place a latex barrier between it an their expectant skin. Doctors like blood so much that they keep collections of stale and otherwise unused blood. The accumulation of some of this treasure is a natural consequence of the craft of doctoring. However, discerning doctors seek out rare and antique bloods to impress their colleagues as much as to satisfy the sanguine hoarding urge that wells up inside. "Look at this sample," one beams, "It is O-Positive and laced with an infection of Whooping Fever from the 1978 outbreak. Just sniff it and see." The IV bag passes from nose to nose, and each nose in turn bobs up and down in a nod of agreement. "That's nothing," boasts another, "I've got a whole gallon of A-Negative, absolutely filthy with the Rhinoceros Flu; vintage NINETEEN-TWEN-TY-THREE." All those gathered drop jaws in awe, as if made ready to receive tongue depressors. Their friend with the jars of Rhino Flu will get referrals from all his peers now, regardless of how many dozens of patients he has lost.