A wave of heat poured out of the guest's room as he opened the door.
"Another summer has arrived," I reminded myself. It was 90 degrees outside but certainly more in the room. I remembered with regret that people around the world, Arabs excepted, consider air conditioning unhealthy. They tolerate it as one of the exotic discomforts of travel, but when someone gets sick they turn it off.
This is not a belief amenable to reason, so I go about my business, sweltering in my suit and tie. I rarely take off my jacket because I keep tools (thermometer, tongue depressor, flashlight, otoscope, syringes, prescription pad) in various pockets. Sometimes medicine is hard.
In his regular column "The Life of a Hotel Doctor", Mike Oppenheim shares remarkable stories around visiting hotel
guests as a doctor. When he began as a hotel doctor during the 1980s, only luxury hotels had a “house doctor,” usually a
local practitioner who did it as a sideline. Nowadays, in a large city even the lowliest motel receives blandishments from
a dozen individuals plus several agencies that send moonlighting doctors if they can find one.
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