“A guest
has cut off his ear and would like to see a doctor.” This was from the Westin
at the airport.
“I can’t sew an ear back in a hotel room,” I
explained. “You should send him to the Centinella E.R.” This seemed to satisfy the
caller, and he hung up.
This call arrived at 1:05 a.m. After some nervous
minutes hoping he wouldn’t call again, I went back to sleep.
In fiction, the doctor would make the housecall
and have a bizarre encounter. Bizarre encounters are more fun to read about
than experience, so I work hard to avoid them. Before agreeing to a visit, I
talk to the guest, so I can detect drunks, drug abusers, and the mentally ill.
Medical science has no antidote for alcohol and, despite what you see in the
movies, no injection will pacify a crazy person. I regularly assure hotel
employees that it’s OK to call the police when a guest is out of control.
Violent behavior isn’t necessary.
Now and then I answer a sad call after a tragedy
such as the death of a spouse or child. Relatives regularly beg for something
to “put her to sleep,” but (again, despite the movies) no such drug exists. A
general anesthetic works, but it’s risky to use one in a housecall as Michael
Jackson’s doctor learned. I respond to these calls and usually hand over a
tranquilizer, but mostly I spend a long time sitting at the bedside and
delivering sympathy.
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