Dodging a Bullet

The army does not hand out generous transportation allowances, so it housed this officer’s family in a single room of a Days Inn. Arriving, I squeezed past stacks of luggage and between three rollaway beds where the children slept.

I suspected the officer’s wife had pneumonia. Although rarely serious in a young patient, she looked sicker than usual: feverish and short of breath. 

Doctors make most decisions based on evidence or gut feeling, but sometimes a third factor intervenes: inconvenience. For example, as a patient it’s risky to be the final appointment before lunch or at the end of the day. There’s a small chance the desire to get out of the office will influence the doctor. Rarely, this leads to a decision that comes back to haunt him. I’ve been around long enough to think twice before making a decision that saves aggravation.

Leaving after giving an antibiotic for pneumonia was a reasonable option, but, reluctantly, I announced that the wife needed to go to an emergency room.

Aggravation followed. The father did not normally care for the children, so I sat patiently for half an hour as he woke them, struggled with their clothes, made several phone calls to reschedule his flight, and then shifted a dozen boxes between his wife’s bed and the door. After this was well under way, I left to fetch my car, parked two blocks away. Fitting six people into a tiny Honda took additional effort.

It was a relief to usher them into the waiting room, explain matters to the clerk, and say my goodbyes. It was a greater relief to learn, when I called the hospital later, that the wife lay in the intensive care unit and on a respirator, fighting a catastrophic pulmonary infection.

Really Good Luck

I was leaving the Universal City Hilton when the elevator stopped. The door opened, and a young man rushed in, blood dripping down his face.

“I have to get to a hospital. How do I get to a hospital?” he cried.

I told him to calm down and peered at his bloody scalp, but the light was too dim to make out anything. “I hit my head on the edge of a table,” he added. “I have to get to an emergency room!”

We left the elevator at the ground floor, and I looked more closely but couldn’t see anything alarming. Introducing myself as a doctor, I led him to the men’s room, and cleaned away the blood. There was no laceration, just a long scratch along his scalp that was oozing blood. I patted it dry, applied a dressing, and assured him that it was not serious and didn’t require a trip to an ER. He felt better.

How Much Does an Emergency Room Cost?

A lady had been vomiting for three days. She had felt better that morning but then relapsed. She sounded weary.

This was tricky. Stomach viruses are the second leading ailment a hotel doctor encounters. I consider them good visits because they rarely last more than a day. I deliver advice as well as an injection and pills. The guest recovers and gives me the credit.

When vomiting persists, doctors worry about more ominous digestive disorders. Worse, three days of vomiting produces some dehydration. This is not dangerous in a healthy person, but drugs don’t work well in its presence and recovery slows. Victims perk up when dehydration is relieved. 

I explained that it was probably too late for a house call. She needed intravenous fluids. After agreeing to go to the local emergency room, she mentioned that she was Canadian and had no travel insurance. I repeated that she should go.

I’ve found that it’s a bad idea to tell guests to go to an ER and then tell them how much it might cost.

My restraint was in vain because she googled the subject, perhaps turning up http://www.theatlantic.com/health/archive/2013/02/how-much-does-it-cost-to-go-to-the-er/273599/ to read that the average was over $2,000. Giving IVs would take hours and cost extra.

When I called the hotel that evening, I learned that she hadn’t gone, and she was still ill. She admitted that the cost had shocked her. I sympathized but told her she had no choice.

When I called later to reinforce this advice, there was no answer. When I called the following morning, she had checked out.

Being Awakened Twice

 "How quick can you be in Costa Mesa?” asked the dispatcher for Expressdoc, a housecall agency. The call had gotten me out of bed at 11 p.m.

“In about an hour.” 

“Can’t you make it earlier?”

“Costa Mesa is forty miles away. How sick is he?”

“He has back pain. He wants to go to an emergency room, but we said we could send a doctor. Let me see if he’ll wait.”

After fifteen minutes had passed, I phoned the agency.

“I’ve been trying to reach him, but it looks like he’s gone to the hospital. If he comes back, is it OK to call you?”

“No. If he comes back, tell him I’ll be happy to see him in the morning.”

I have no objection to being awakened to make a housecall, but I don’t want to be awakened twice. After breakfast, I phoned the guest. He hadn’t gone to the emergency room, but he was feeling better.

How to Find a Hotel Doctor

Getting sick in a hotel far from home is miserable enough; you shouldn’t have to scramble for help. Here’s the best strategy.

1. Ask a hotel employee.

This often succeeds, but you may see him scratch his head. ‘... St. Mary’s is the nearest emergency room. Take Seventh Avenue about a mile, then...’ 

Ask others. Relations with the ‘house doctor’ are informal. He or she is never a hotel employee, and many on the staff are unaware of such a person. ‘You’re our doctor?  I didn’t know we had a doctor...’ is a comment I hear at hotels I’ve visited for years.

2. Ask the manager.

Every manager knows hotel doctors although you’ll often hear: ‘I’m sorry but we can’t recommend anyone.’ You are encountering one consequence of today’s malpractice crisis. The hotel’s lawyer has assumed (correctly) that a guest who sues the doctor will also sue the hotel that recommended him, so the lawyer has forbidden the staff to name anyone. When a manager clams up, you have four choices.

A. Demand a doctor and keep demanding.

Occasionally I visit an assertive guest who has refused to take no for an answer. I introduce myself to the manager afterwards, but he or she invariably insists that this was an exception, and the hotel can never, never mention my name.

B. Phone another hotel and ask for its doctor.

All luxury hotels (Four Seasons, Ritz-Carlton, Peninsula) have doctors; popular chains (Hilton, Holiday Inn, Hyatt, Ramada) are unpredictable, but the larger the hotel, the more likely you’ll succeed.

C. Phone a national house call service.

All claim to operate nationwide, but they’re a crapshoot if no moonlighter happens to be available. Some names to Google are Expressdoc, Standby MD, Inn-House Doctors, Hoteldocs. Their fee not only pays the doctor but the organization, so it can take your breath away. Ask how much and then ask for the extras because the meter starts running as soon as he walks through the door. I’m pretty sure I’m the only hotel doctor who charges a flat fee.

D. Call your family doctor.

The law requires that a doctor be available to patients. You should reach the doctor or someone covering. If not, complain to your state medical board.

What about insurance? Specific travel insurance pays for almost everything, and it’s cheaper than you think. Traditional health insurance may pay a fraction or apply it to your deductible. HMO’s are variable. All claim to cover emergencies, but they look skeptically on house calls. I hate to give advice no one takes, but  here goes: read your policy.

Don't Do Anything!

The guest was feverish, and his abdomen felt tender and rigid, a sign of peritonitis. He needed to go to an emergency room. I phoned his travel insurance to let them know.

This particular agency was a slow payer, usually a sign that it would be hard to deal with. Sure enough, after hearing the news, the dispatcher informed me that the patient must first go to the Airport Medical Center, an urgent care clinic. It’s not part of a hospital, and the doctor on duty has the same training as I.

Getting a second opinion before sending a client to an emergency room saves the agency money, but it wouldn’t in this case because my patient needed to go. There was always a chance the AMC doctor would send him home, so I phoned the clinic to make sure he thought twice.

No sensible doctor tells another doctor what to do, so I chose my words carefully. I was sending a man with bad abdominal pain and peritoneal signs, I explained. I felt he needed to go to an emergency room and be admitted, but his insurance insisted on an urgent care clinic. He thanked me for the information. “We don’t have too many facilities here,” he added. “But we’ll do what we can.”

“Don’t do anything. Send him to the hospital,” would have been tactless, so I didn’t say it.

Once a doctor decides a patient needs emergency care, allowing a test to change his mind is a bad idea. For example, an abnormal blood count points to an infection. Good. But what if the blood count comes back normal? The answer: send him anyway. Doctors shouldn’t order a test that won’t change the treatment, but we do it all the time.

So the man spent a few miserable hours while the doctor ordered tests that doctors order when a patient has a fever and bellyache: blood work and an abdominal x-ray. I have no idea of the results, but I checked to make sure he’d gone to the hospital, and he had.

Warning! Make Sure You're Admitted!

This is strictly for American readers, but others will get a taste of the grotesqueries of our medical system.

Let’s say you’ve been vomiting for a few days and drag yourself to an emergency room. The doctor says you need IV fluids, so an aide wheels you to a room where you spend the night and most of the next day and then return home, feeling better.

Or you have chest pain. The ER doctor doubts that it’s a heart attack, but he wants to keep you for observation. After two days connected to a heart monitor and getting blood tests, you’re discharged, feeling better.

In both cases you’ll get a bill for at least $5,000, and YOUR HOSPITAL INSURANCE WON’T PAY!! 

Hospital insurance only pays if you’re admitted to the hospital, but remaining in a holding area for a few days or being kept “for observation” is not admission. You’re still an outpatient, so you’d better have good outpatient insurance.

If you’re over 65 and have Medicare Part A (which is free) but have decided to skip Part B (which costs $109 a month) you have no outpatient coverage. Part A only pays for the hospital. If you’re under 65 and have the usual Blue Cross or Blue Shield, you’re largely covered for hospital charges. Depending on the policy you’re willing to pay for, outpatient coverage varies. A lot. 

The solution, when the ER doctor announces that you need to stay for a while, is to ask: “am I admitted or not?”

Of course, you’re probably miserably sick or frightened (if not, maybe you shouldn’t be in an emergency room), so asking about insurance is not a priority. Woe unto you if you don’t.