Night in a Hotel Room

Patients are often suicidally reluctant to wake a doctor, but I don’t object. Traffic is light, parking is easy, and since I have no office, I can sleep late. I’ve made a thousand housecalls that got me out of bed.

Callers awaken in the dark, certain something terrible is about to happen. I try to handle anxiety attacks over the phone using sympathy and calm reassurance. I never point out that nothing terrible will happen because guests know that; it’s why they’re upset. I explain that no one is perfect; sometimes our brains go haywire, but it never lasts long. If I keep the guest on the line, this almost always works. Making a housecall is risky because guests often feel better and cancel before I arrive or feel worse and insist that the hotel call paramedics.

Some hotel doctors use paramedics as a substitute for getting out of bed, but I reserve them for emergencies. Mostly, these are obvious. Heart attacks can rouse victims from sleep, but they are not subtle. Niggling chest discomfort doesn’t qualify, and chest pain in a young person is probably something else. 

I see a cross-section of ailments, but guests with an upset stomach seem overrepresented. I consider a wee-hour visit for vomiting a good call (i.e. not life-threatening; I can help; patients are especially grateful). The latest antivomiting drug, ondansetron, is superior to the old standby, Compazine. It was once wildly expensive and used only for vomiting after cancer chemotherapy, but its patent expired a few years ago, and the price has plummeted.

Most upset stomachs don’t last long. I assure guests they’ll probably feel better when the sun rises, and (a perk of being a doctor) when that happens, guests believe I’ve cured them.