I made a return visit to the office of one of my doctors the other day. As I pushed through the revolving door at the entrance, I was hit smack in the face by the unmistakable aroma of bacon.

In a medical building, where I’d think such food is frowned upon.

Discerning its origin was not a challenge. There was a small food cart in the corner of the lobby where the proprietor was tending to about two dozen strips of bacon on her grill. I didn’t even know she had a grill, since in the past it appeared her entire bill of fare consisted of cups of coffee, pre-packaged bran muffins, and bananas whose expiration date was yesterday.

But now she was offering bacon-and-egg sandwiches on white toast. In a medical building.

I happen to know no cardiologists rent space there, so it was unlikely anyone in a lab coat was going to run down and scold her for serving the sandwiches. Or maybe they’d thank her for helping to generate more business for them.

But I wondered who made up her clientele. Were doctors and nurses stopping by for a greasy-pork-and-cholesterol start to their workdays? If not, were there enough patients strolling through the lobby each morning to keep her business thriving? There were no customers queued at her cart to give me a clue.

Don’t get me wrong. I used to love bacon, egg, and cheese sandwiches — right up until the point a few years ago that my cardiac arteries were so clogged I had to have two stents stuck in my chest to keep them open. I’m not saying I modified my diet entirely after the procedure and now only eat healthy food, but I did cut out those breakfast treats. Big, sloppy cheeseburgers, too. Although I’ve come to like making them with plant-based Impossible Beef rather than chunks of dead cows.

There may come a day where I succumb to my brain craving such a meal again — but I doubt it will be in the lobby of a medical building.