A converted rowhouse gives you a stairwell, an alley and no room to back up
Filming inside the District's older housing stock is a physical problem before it is a marketing one.
An operatory built into the back of a rowhouse has narrow walls, a low ceiling and nowhere to stand. A phone gets close or it gets nothing, so the clips that survive are tight: hands, an instrument, a model, a scanner screen. Wide establishing shots are not available to you, and a morning spent chasing one produces nothing worth posting.
Outside, alley access is often the only exterior with room to work, and in a historic district the front of the building may be the part you are not permitted to change. Film the alley door, the steps and the buzzer anyway. A first-time patient has to find all three, and a clip that shows the way in is worth more than an exterior beauty shot ever was.
Say out loud whether there is a step. Plenty of converted rowhouses on Capitol Hill and in Shaw put a flight of stairs between the sidewalk and the waiting room, and a patient with a walker, a stroller or a bad knee needs that answer before they book rather than after they arrive. If there is a level entrance off the alley, that clip earns its place on the account permanently.
Sound is the other constraint of a shared wall. Somebody else's contractor is always working next door, and a phone microphone picks all of it up through plaster that has been there a century. A clip-on microphone solves most of it, and captions solve the rest, which a reader standing on a Metro platform needed anyway.