The Housecall Doctor

  An Israeli diamond dealer, violently ill with stomach flu, remained overnight at an emergency room. Returning to L.A. Marriott, he felt better except for some diarrhea. I reassured him and handed over anti-diarrhea pills. “Are you Jewish,” he asked. “I’m a doctor,” I said. He thought for a while and then asked “Would you give me a discount on the bill?” I gave him a discount. After another pause he asked “Would you keep the old fee on the invoice that I give to my insurance?” I told him I’d already made the change. “But the insurance charged too much: $200 just for a week in America!” he complained. “You should kiss the feet of whoever sold you that. Wait till you see the bill from the emergency room. It’ll be about $5,000.” He didn’t believe me.

A Craigslist ad was recruiting hotel doctors. I keep track of new arrivals and offer to work for them. They often take me up on it because it’s not easy to find a doctor on the spur of the moment.   A few hours after my query, the phone rang. The caller introduced himself, adding that he knew me, admired me, and was certain that I was a perfect hire. He explained that he operated a concierge hotel doctor service in our largest cities.. Clients were busy businessmen who absolutely could not interrupt work to be sick. His doctors made sure this happened through aggressive treatment and powerful drugs, perhaps more powerful than they would use in an office. His doctors sutured lacerations, drained boils, administered IV fluids and breathing treatments, incised hemorrhoids – whatever a guest needed to keep him going. The charge was $3250. “They pay that?” I asked. “Just about everyone,” he responded. “Because there’s NO OUT-OF-POCKET EXPENSE!” (I write in caps because his vo

  “This is Doctor Oppenheim,” I repeated several times before hanging up. Caller ID identified the Doubletree in Santa Monica, so I phoned to ask if someone had requested a doctor. Someone had. “You answered, but you couldn’t hear me,” said the guest. “So I called the front desk again, and they gave me a different number. Another doctor is coming.” That was upsetting because the Doubletree is a regular. When asked, the guest gave me the 800 number of Hotel Doctors International, a service based in Miami. “How much are they charging?” I asked. “I don’t know. They just asked if I had insurance.” That was a red flag. Many hotel doctor agencies charge spectacular fees and then assure guests that travel insurance will reimburse them. Forewarned of our rapacious medical system, foreign travelers rarely make a fuss – and foreign travel insurance generally pays outrageous fees. But American insurance doesn’t. I told the guest, an American, that my fee was $300 and that he should ca

  “She speaks Spanish. I’m not sure what’s going on, but she needs a doctor.”  The caller was the night manager at the Torrance Marriott. The hotel rarely calls, but I go regularly for crew of LAN, Chilean Airlines. An LAN crewperson who falls ill is supposed to call her supervisor who calls the central office who calls Federal Assist, a travel insurer, who calls Inn House Doctor, a national housecall agency who calls its answering service who then calls me. The guest hadn’t followed the procedure. If I made a housecall at her request, getting paid would be a major hassle.  I phoned the answering service which had no idea what do. I phoned Federal Assist who insisted it wasn’t responsible for arranging visits. I phoned the director of Inn House Doctor to alert him to the problem. Then I waited.  It was 5 a.m. It’s dangerous to make these housecalls before official approval because it may never arrive. But the rush hour was about to begin, and I couldn’t resist. I jumped in my car