As I was driving, a guest phoned to ask when I'd arrive. “In about fifteen minutes.” On her initial call, I told her I would arrive within the hour, and I was on schedule, so the call meant that she was still vomiting. Vomiters are impatient.
Opening an envelope from an international travel insurer, I expected a check for some hotel visits but found only a form letter containing a dozen boxes, each listing a reason why payment was denied. An "X" through one box revealed that I had not submitted my invoice on an HCFA-1500.
Could I see a gentleman at the Omni with an upset stomach? The dispatcher for International Assistance was delighted to learn that I could. In most cities, dispatchers work hard to find a doctor willing to make a housecall but not in Los Angeles.
A guest in Long Beach had broken out in red spots. This looked like a terrific visit; skin problems are usually easy. A sudden rash is frightening but hardly ever indicates something serious. I have no objection to making a diagnosis over the phone, but guests are terrible at describing a rash's appearance. In any case, most want to doctor to look at it.
Her child's nose was bleeding, explained the mother. Could I come?
It upsets me to collect a fee and then send a patient to pay a fee at a clinic or emergency room for care I can't provide in a housecall. I try to anticipate these.
Almost every hotel guest is working or taking an expensive vacation, so illness is more inconvenient than usual. Everyone agrees that doctors have no magical powers…. except… maybe… if you really need them…..
My relations with other Los Angeles hotel doctors are civilized but not close. When I leave town there's only one colleague I trust to cover. Mostly this works out. I schedule my trips so they don't conflict with his.
American water. American food. Air conditioning. Air Travel. Stress.
It was one a.m. as I drove Santa Monica Boulevard, but crowds packed the sidewalks in West Hollywood, lining up to hear the latest band. A few blocks beyond, I parked at the Ramada.
Tourists come to America expecting a strange foreign land. They usually leave satisfied, but encountering an American doctor is an unexpected bonus, so everyone on the tour gathers round, and I often go about my business in front of a large attentive audience.
At 6 p.m. on the Friday before Memorial Day, I learned that a flight attendant in Costa Mesa had a cold. I prefer not to drive 46 miles during the rush hour, so I promised to be there between nine and ten. That was acceptable. Airline crew are not demanding.
"'allo!" a little girl shouted from her bed as I walked into the room, but that was her only English. Her French parents had called because she was running a 101 fever.
My last post reported a housecall service that charged an unbelievably large fee. By an odd coincidence, at about the same time, I came across another new service with an even more unbelievable fee: $99.
I keep an eye on the competition, and recently an internet search turned up International Medical Services (not its real name) which promised to send a highly qualified doctor to a home, office, or hotel at a moment's notice. When I phoned, its medical director knew my name, having dealt with me at previous jobs.
Younger, cooler, more expensive doctors own the franchise on Los Angeles film shoots, but I go now and then.
5:30 a.m. Saturday is an ideal time for a call. I had finished writing and was sitting down to breakfast. I told the dispatcher that I would be at the hotel in an hour.
Stepping out of the shower, a Doubletree guest stumbled and cut his leg. He had paid little attention, but now, two days later, the wound had grown painful.
A 2 year-old was ill with vomiting, diarrhea, fever, and a rash. That sounded bad.
"We have a situation with a guest…" explained the manager of the Georgian.