Waiting at the local carwash, my eye
ran over a sheet of ads along one wall. Among notices for personal injury
lawyers, pest control, acupuncturists, and pizzas was a photo of a smiling
young man in a white coat carrying a doctor’s bag. According to the text, a
phone call would bring him to your door at a fee less than an emergency room’s.
All ads for housecalls deliver this cheerful boast, never mentioning that the
average ER visit has passed $1500.
My first instinct was to chuckle at
the waste of money. Few customers at a carwash will pay the going rate for a
housecall. My second instinct was to worry. This fellow was ambitious. His web
site features the same photograph plus testimonials from rating sites such as
Yelp describing him as a healer of Christ-like compassion.
My third instinct was to recall a
visit to Le Petite Hermitage, a small boutique hotel off the Sunset Strip. The
guest had spoken to this doctor the day before, decided against a visit, and
expressed pleasure at finding me and my lower fee. Since Le Petite Hermitage
was a regular, I assumed he’d gotten the name from the internet. Now I’m not so
sure because this occurred early in the year, and hotel hasn’t called since.
In large hotels employees know me by
sight and take for granted, even without an official announcement, that I’m the
official doctor. Since it has only 80 rooms, I may not visit Le Petite
Hermitage for months at a time, so I’m not a familiar face. As a result, when
an entrepreneurial physician makes an appearance to extol the benefits of his
service including, perhaps, an amenity for the employee who refers a guest, he
makes an impression.
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