A Letter from His Doctor

A VIP had forgotten his medication. Would I prescribe it, asked the manager of a Sunset Strip hotel.

“He brought a letter from his doctor,” she added helpfully.

That was bad news. About twenty percent of guests with letters have complex medical problems that require an explanation. The rest are drug abusers under the impression that an official document will persuade us to prescribe something we ordinarily wouldn’t.

Sure enough, it was a popular narcotic. This guaranteed tedious consequences. The most critical was that, after my refusal, he might ask the manager to suggest another doctor, explaining that I had heartlessly rejected his appeal.

I listened as he described the complex pain disorder he and his doctor were wrestling with. Perhaps I could examine him, he added. While this sounds reasonable, such visits involve an unspoken agreement that if I came and took his money, I would give the prescription. That felt too much like selling drugs. I countered that I would call in a prescription for a good non-narcotic while he contacted his doctor who would phone me to discuss matters.

His doctor wouldn’t call, and I suspected the guest wouldn’t care for my prescription, so I could expect to hear from him in a day or two. But the clock was running. He might check out and return home or move to another hotel and bother another doctor.

Do You Go To Ontario?

“Do you go to Ontario?” asked the dispatcher for Expressdoc, a national housecall agency.

Ontario is in San Bernardino County, fifty miles distant, but this is small potatoes. My record drive is ninety miles to Santa Barbara.

The call arrived at 12:20, so I was not optimistic about missing rush hour traffic on the way back. But it worked out fine; the hour’s drive passed with no significant slowing. I listened to Slaughterhouse Five on my CD; highly recommended.

The patient was a Brazilian lady visiting her son; her upset stomach presented no problem.

The son and I chatted as he accompanied me to the elevator. He told me he was reevaluating his decision to remain in the US because the political atmosphere had grown so shrill.

Did you ever think there’d come a time when Latin Americans considered their governments more stable?

  

A Dog-Eat-Dog Business, Part 10

My last post reported a housecall service that charged an unbelievable fee. By an odd coincidence within a week I came across another new service with an even more unbelievable fee: $99.

A high-tech startup similar to Airbnb, Uber, and Lyft, Heal is clearly the wave of the future. You download its app. If illness strikes, you click on it, enter information, and (according to the web site) a doctor arrives within an hour. Business was brisk, its medical director assured me.

With a “medical assistant,” driving, Heal’s doctors care for acute illnesses, performing complex procedures that I don’t do such as suturing, injecting joints, and even complete physical exams.

Paying the doctor, driver, staff, and investors at $99 per housecall seems impossible, especially since the web site emphasizes that there are no extra charges. On the other hand, taxi companies complain bitterly about Uber, and hotels denounce Airbnb, yet both are prospering. Financial acumen is not my strong point, so it’s possible that Heal will drive me and my more expensive colleagues out of business.

If so, I might to work for them. Pay is low for a doctor but acceptable to me. Having a driver would relieve a major stress, and I might enjoy not being on-call 24 hours a day. This blog would vanish, but you could read Heal’s. It lacks my whimsy, being mostly earnest medical advice and public relatoins, but $99 will not include entertaining literary diversions.

Let me know if it works for you.