Gushing Blood - The Life of a Hotel Doctor
A man at a Beverly Hills hotel had struck his head on the edge of a table. Blood was gushing, and he wanted a doctor.
Scalp lacerations bleed heavily, but my experience with bumped heads reveals that such wounds are rarely impressive. If victims are willing to apply pressure and wait, they usually agree. He didn't want to wait.
This was an upscale hotel, but I was not its doctor who was undoubtedly, this being midnight, fast asleep. Someone had turned up my number and phoned.
I told him I would arrive in half an hour, and the manager expressed surprise when I arrived on time. He led me down a hall, through the kitchen to a large room where the guest was resting on a chair, a wet rag over his forehead. Half a dozen employees stood around.
Removing the rag revealed that the bleeding had stopped. The wound was shallow. I delivered the good news and applied a band-aid. Everyone was relieved, and the guest peeled off my fee from a wad of bills.
