Hotel Doctor to the Stars

Now and then an agent expresses interest in my memoirs.

You don’t think I have memoirs?... I’ve been hotel doctoring since the 1980s, and I had literary ambitions long before. My proposal has been making the rounds for decades, and agents often respond. Our conversation always covers the same ground.

“‘Memoirs of a Los Angeles hotel doctor.’ That’s a great idea! It sounds like you’ve seen celebrities.”

“A few.”

“Did you see Michael Jackson?”

“Many hotel doctors saw Michael Jackson.”

“Tell me about him.”

“Doctors can’t do that.”

That ends the conversation. I suspect agents dislike hearing that my memoirs don’t discuss famous people, even those who’ve died. It’s correct that you can’t libel the dead, but you can anger surviving loved-ones; they’ve been known to sue. 

My book proposal continues to make the rounds, but it’s possible that you will be my only audience.

Bizarre Encounters

“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.  

Irritating Things that Movie Doctors Do

Give miracle shots. Whenever a movie character is crazy or really upset, a doctor delivers a shot that calms him. I wish I knew what it contained… Movie doctors are always putting characters to sleep, but no shot does that. An anesthetic delivered intravenously makes you unconscious, but that’s dangerous outside an operating room as Michael Jackson’s doctor learned.

Livesaving pills. I see this less often today, but in older movies a character would suddenly be dying. He wouldn’t have “his pills.” Everyone would look frantically for “his pills.” Someone would find them. He would take one and recover. I can’t think what disease does that.

Movie doctors are always saying “You have six months to live.”  We can predict average life expectancy for a fatal disease by tracking a few hundred victims, but that’s meaningless for an individual who could live a week or years.

“Tests show that you have incurable cancer.” Movie doctors who say this are never portrayed as incompetent, although they are. Delivering bad news is a skill no different from diagnosing a heart murmur. A movie buff will explain that the screenwriter can’t spend the time required for a realistic interchange, and I agree on the problem. But here’s the solution: a better writer. A bad writer uses these dumb shortcuts.

“You need plenty of rest and absolute calm.” This is so Victorian…. Bed rest is wildly unhealthy. Bones dissolve. Blood clots. The bowel falls silent. Today patients are dragged out of bed a day or two after major surgery. Doctors once believed that excitement damaged the heart. Intense emotion might cause a heart attack, so people with heart disease should stay calm. We don’t believe that anymore.

Michael Jackson's Doctor

According to the Los Angeles Times, police are looking for Michael Jackson’s doctor. That brings back memories. In 2001, I received a call from a concierge at the Beverly Hills Hotel asking if I could see a celebrity. When a concierge speaks of a "celebrity" instead of giving the name, it means she suspects there might be a problem. So I asked if it were Michael Jackson. She admitted it was. I told her that I had some experience with him, and during my last visit we had agreed that he wouldn't call any more. I told her I planned to hold him to that agreement. She was entirely sympathetic, but that was the last call I received from the Beverly Hills Hotel.