The Housecall Doctor

  An eight year-old’s eyelid revealed a small bump. My diagnosis was a sty. As I explained, the mother held out her cell phone. “I e-mailed our doctor,” she explained. I saw a photo of the child’s face and the doctor’s message which diagnosed an eye infection and prescribed antibiotic drops. “The drops aren’t working, so I might need something stronger,” she added. The photograph was not too revealing. I offered to discuss matters with the doctor, but he wasn’t available. Most stys go away without treatment although hot compresses are supposed to help. Drops are irrelevant. I explained this, being careful to add that the child had a real problem but one that didn’t require medicine. This often doesn’t work, and it didn’t work this time. She looked uneasy. I knew she was thinking, “The doctor’s not giving me anything. So he must think there’s nothing wrong. But look at the eye…” She perked up when I told her she could continue using the drops. Everyone knows that when you ha

  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

  On Sunday I wrote for a few hours and then ate breakfast. My routine is to go to the gym afterward, but as I was leaving the phone rang. A travel insurer asked me to see a guest in Anaheim, near Disneyland, forty miles away. That was good news; not only did I have a visit but I could skip the gym. I don’t mind long drives provided the freeways move smoothly which is the case on Sunday morning, and the insurer paid extra for the distance. Sure enough, the drive went quickly. The patient was a five year-old with an itchy rash on his legs, obviously atopic dermatitis. I informed the parents, explained how to care for his skin, and handed over a tube of hydrocortisone cream from my bag. They were pleased. I didn't hurry, but I doubt I spent ten minutes in the room. Sometimes this is an easy job.

  The phone rang at 3 a.m. The operator at the Torrance Residence Inn announced that a guest with a sore throat wanted a visit. At 8:30 the following morning. “Why did she call now?” I asked. “I don’t know. She hung up.” The operator gave the patient’s information. The Torrance Residence Inn is fifteen miles away. I do not like long drives during the rush hour, so this was already a problem visit. Getting back to sleep was unlikely. I’d probably lay awake and fume. Guests who phone for a doctor late at night often feel bad. so I took a chance and called. The guest was awake and feeling bad. When I told her I could be there in 45 minutes, she was amenable. I threw on my clothes. The drive was easy. I gave her the necessary medicines. Everyone was satisfied.      

Walking toward the entrance of the Viceroy, a luxury Santa Monica hotel, I noticed half a dozen parking valets gathered around their supervisor who was giving instructions. As I passed, he paused and pointed: “Look at him. That’s our hotel doctor. You let him park wherever he wants.”  This happened in July of 2003, but I still remember the pleasure it gave me. When the parking valets grant you a free pass, there are no more worlds to conquer.    

I’m the doctor for scores of Los Angeles hotels, but even the largest (the Bonaventure) rarely generates five visits per month. National housecall agencies and international travel insurers provide more business. My leading client is Inn House Doctor, a national agency run by an entrepreneur based near Boston. You can google it. He solicits hotels, including mine, but they are not an important source of business. Since Inn House collects a cut of the fee, guests who call hear a large quote, so they often refuse. Many travel insurers use Inn House Doctor for their clients in America. It would make more sense for them to call me directly, but I earn my usual fee, so I don’t care. I prefer Inn House when guests live far away, because insurers often refuse to pay a larger fee. Inn House understands. Its biggest clients are foreign airlines who need doctors for crew. In the past airlines called me, but I’m happy to work for Inn House because it handles many more. I don’t solicit d