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.
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