Only half my callers require one. I'm happy to phone a pharmacy when guests forget legitimate medication: blood pressure pills, heart pills, contraceptives, etc. I don't do this for guests who tell me "I had the same thing last year, and my doctor prescribed……".
"A guest at the Century Plaza wants his Adderall refilled. Can you go?" asked someone from the office of a local concierge doctor.
People often ask what sort of contract I had with hotels. The answer is none. Staff called because I was easy to reach and quick to respond. Once they called a few times, they were not inclined to change.
A lady had been vomiting for three days. She had felt better that morning but then relapsed. She sounded weary.
The Chateau Marmont is a funky art-deco apartment converted to a hotel in the 1930s with nine nearby cottages acquired during the 1940s. John Belushi died in a cottage in 1982, but that was a few years before I became its doctor.
Hearing my fee, the guest announced that he was on Medicare. I explained that I am not a Medicare doctor, so he would have to pay me up front. Unlike most elderly callers, he preferred another source of care, so I gave directions to a local clinic.
Danielle, chief concierge of the Ritz-Carlton, called me when her allergies were acting up, but this wasn't the reason. It was an awkward situation, she explained, but she hoped I'd understand. A guest has complained, I thought. I racked my brain to think who it might be.
She had a fourteen hour flight to Australia, explained a woman with a French accent. Unfortunately, she had thrown her back out again. Would I come and give something to relax her muscles for that long journey? Her doctor always prescribed something that did the trick.
A young man's cough, present for two weeks, had grown worse. He had a fever, and my stethoscope revealed lung noises typical of pneumonia.
Who is Roger Smith? As the hotel's Director of Marketing and Co-Owner, John Knowles, jocularly explained during our time together, the enigmatic 'Roger' is many things to many people. The personified alias that has given this Midtown Manhattan property its name has always represented a place where great ideas are born and where bold actions are made reality. Now, however, the 136-room Roger Smith Hotel offers an archetypical example of a trendsetting post-COVID adaptation in a major urban center, and hoteliers would be wise to take note.
After 2013 I made over 50 percent of my hotel visits at the request of national housecall agencies, international travel insurers, airlines, and a sprinkling of miscellaneous sources including other hotel doctors. That was fine with me.
The caller was Chinese, and he wanted a medicine. That could mean anything. He gave the name which, through his thick accent, sounded like "desitin," an over-the-counter treatment for diaper rash.
His client had developed redness over her eyelids. Could I come?
A woman at a Sunset Strip hotel had seen a doctor for an allergic rash, and now she wasn't feeling right. Rashes are easy, and her symptoms were probably medication side-effects, so I expected no problem. That seemed to be the case, and she agreed to stop the medicine.
If you get sick in a local hotel, you might google "hotel doctor" and the city. In Los Angeles my name turns up but only with links to my blog. I don't have a web site. Nor do my long-established competitors.
A caller from the Airport Hilton asked how much I charged. This is often the first question I hear. If I answer immediately, the guest is likely to thank me and hang up. So my first response is that phone calls are free and might be all he or she needs. What's the problem?....
Those were the first words from a young flight attendant in a hotel room as soon as we had exchanged greetings.
During the early months of 2020, once it was apparent that the novel coronavirus (COVID19) was a global pandemic, people everywhere started to think of creative solutions to help ease the problems of the virus. One solution was to convert hotels into hospitals (H2H ©) and into housing for healthcare workers. With the virus halting travel, many hotels were left close to vacant. On top of that, many healthcare professionals were worried about traveling back and forth between work and home, at the risk of infecting their household.
Two women at the Holiday Inn were ill. The mother suffered low abdominal pain with vomiting and diarrhea. It seemed like the usual stomach flu. I assured her that it wouldn't last long and gave medication.
"Hey, Doctor! It's been a while." I love it when parking valets recognize me. That was the good news. The 'it's been a while' was not so good.