Delivering Medical Care is the Easy Part

Park La-Brea Towers is a huge apartment complex in West Hollywood. I’ve been there a dozen times. Inside, the buildings have numbers which follow a cryptic system that I have yet to decipher, and finding them is a chore. Since it’s an old complex with inadequate off-street lots, street parking is permitted.

You don’t want to visit Park La-Brea Towers during the wee-hours. Many streets are gated, and the gates are closed. Everyone is home, and so are their cars.

I went at 2 a.m. last week. I was in luck because someone was leaving as I arrived, so I could slip through the gate before it closed. Since the streets were empty, I was able to drive slowly and peer at the buildings to find the number. Then I searched and searched, but all street parking spots were occupied. I found spaces in the reserved lots, but signs warned of terrible consequences for wrongful parkers. I noticed a car parked directly in front of my building and decided to do the same.

Drawing near, I saw a ticket on its window. I wasn’t willing to take the chance. I couldn’t phone the apartment because the family didn’t have an American cell phone. I phoned the agency and woke up the person who sent me (it’s a boutique agency, so the owner sometimes takes calls). I told her to call the family and tell them to send someone down to watch my car and plead my case if parking enforcement arrived.

Someone duly appeared, and I went upstairs. As usual, delivering medical care was the easy part.

Overdressed for Summer

It’s August. Wearing a suit and tie, I’m reminded of how much I resent hotels that refuse to let me park free. I only learned that the Casa Del Mar didn’t when the clerk declined to validate, and I was stuck for $20. But the Casa Del Mar is on the beach where it’s cool enough to walk a few blocks without suffering.

The Sheraton in Pasadena is in Pasadena where it’s ten degrees warmer than Los Angeles. The average summer day in Los Angeles is tolerable but opening the car door in Pasadena is always a shock. Worse, I travel to the Pasadena Sheraton to see Virgin-Atlantic crew who are British. Foreigners, Arabs excepted, believe that air conditioning is bad for the health. When anyone gets sick, they turn it off, so not only do I arrive at the hotel in a sweat but go about my business in a hot room.

Another Free Service

A caller in Huntington Beach was having a panic attack. He had had them before, and he needed a doctor to come and make sure he wasn’t dying.

This was a bad call in many ways. Waking me at midnight was not one, because I don’t consider that a big deal. Making a housecall for a panic attack is risky because victims often improve while I’m driving and cancel, and Huntington Beach is 45 miles away. There’s not much a doctor on the spot can do with medicine for a panic attack  (“a shot” doesn’t exist).

Finally, the caller didn’t know the fee; I would have to tell him.

In his distress, he had searched the internet and found a national housecall agency. Most such agencies tell callers the fee, so by the time I hear from them, they’ve agreed to pay. But this particular agency specializes in foreign airline crew and tourists with travel insurance where the fee is already arranged. On the rare occasion when an American contacts the agency’s answering service directly, it simply passes the call onto me.

I knew that my fee to Huntington Beach at midnight including a 40 percent cut for the service would never pass. Worse, once I mentioned it the horrified patient would quickly get off the phone.  

That wouldn’t bother an operator, but once someone asks a doctor for help, he or she is obligated to help (ethically obligated; in reality maybe not). So I held off delivering the bad news and kept the conversation going. 

After forty minutes of soothing and reassurance he began running out of gas and admitted that maybe this wasn’t an emergency. He agreed to keep my number and call if he changed his mind.

Taking No Chances

A guest at the Westin wanted a doctor to look at a rash. I quoted the fee, always a tense moment.

“Do you take insurance?”

If the caller is American, the visit is doomed, but this one wasn’t. I asked the name.

“Assistcard.”

I know Assistcard, but it doesn’t allow clients to call the doctor on their own. They must phone Assistcard which confirms their eligibility and then phones me.

Most travelers know this. In the past, when I told the rare exception what to do and then waited for the call from Assistcard, it never came. So I told him I would arrange matters.

Foreign insurers have offices in the US, so their customer service is painfully familiar. I listened to a recorded welcome in Spanish, Portuguese, and English. I punched “3” to choose English. A recorded voice told me to listen carefully to choices on the menu because they had recently changed. I chose and then listened to muzak. 

After several minutes a dispatcher greeted me in Spanish. I proceeded in English which I suspected he spoke and this proved correct. He assured me that he would phone the guest, and arrange approval. He kept his word although an hour passed before he called.

During the wait, the guest’s wife decided that it wouldn’t hurt to have the doctor check her cold. The approval, when it arrived, added a consult with the wife, so it turned out to be a lucrative visit.   

Who's Taking Care of Avianca

Coris, a travel insurer, sent me to the Crowne Plaza to care for a Spanish lady with stuffy ears. She turned out to be a flight attendant for Avianca airlines. Airline crew can’t fly if they suffer a host of minor ailments, so they provide plenty of easy visits.

That evening a call arrived from Traveler’s Aid, a national housecall service, and I returned to the Crowne Plaza. The guest, a Columbian man with a cold, was also an Avianca flight attendant.

That was puzzling. Foreign airlines once called me directly to see their crew. They don’t do that today. They call a more traditional provider organization who then calls me.

But what was Avianca doing? I theorized that it calls Coris, and the Coris dispatcher consults her list for Los Angeles. If she decides to call me, Avianca will pay Coris perhaps double my charge. If she calls Traveler’s Aid, the additional middleman will increase it still more.  

I’ve long since stopped trying to see the logic.

An Easy Visit

A young woman suffered an episode of dizziness earlier that day. By the time I arrived, she had recovered. The examination was normal, and I reassured her. 

Any sudden episode in a young, healthy person (dizziness, chest pain, shortness of breath, even fainting) is probably benign and not worth intensive investigation unless it keeps happening. We take these more seriously in the elderly.

Some guests are sicker than others, but I have a soft spot for guests who are not sick at all. 

Bedbug Calls

“All insect bites look the same,” I explained.

Bedbug calls are tricky. Victims are often unwilling to pay. When, confronted by an angry guest, hotels ask my help and offer to pay the fee, I come but refuse to take their money. The hotel will probably comp the guest’s room, and I don’t want to add to their expense and hassle. Also, since a bedbug call involves management, it’s excellent P.R.

Naturally, I hope that a grateful hotel will remember. This doesn’t always work, but I drove off in a good mood. I love nearby hotels, and the Westwood Comstock, which rarely calls, is three miles away. It’s also very exclusive, and my left-wing politics does not diminish the pleasure of caring for hotel guests with plenty of money.

The patient turned out to be more distressed than angry. Sometime guests show me a rash that is obviously not insect bites. Sometimes I see bites confined to the legs, meaning the guest acquired them while erect, perhaps at the beach. There were many bites on her upper body, so I couldn’t deny the possibility of bedbugs.

I delivered my opinion and handed over a free tube of cortisone cream and my business card. Everyone seemed pleased including the general manager who thanked me for my quick response. Now I must wait.