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.

Nearing the End of the Road

I have never denied being America’s most successful hotel doctor. No one has made as many visits – over 18,000 -- or works at it exclusively. All others do it as a sideline.

Yet time is passing. I’m not the only Los Angeles hotel doctor collecting social security. A new generation is muscling in, displaying the energy of youth, fierce marketing skills, and a priceless absence of ethics. All are concierge doctors, building cash-only practices that serve patients willing to pay to have a physician at their beck and call.

Even in Los Angeles, such patients are a limited resource, so concierge doctors have cast an eye on hotels, a major source of cash-payers.

“I guess no one’s been sick,” is the lie I hear when an employee explains why her hotel isn’t calling. I’ve been hearing it lately.

Partly it’s because my field is consolidating. National housecall services are expanding, and almost all use me. This is no news to my competitors, but marketing to these services presents difficulties for a concierge doctor.

One obstacle is their spectacular fees: double, triple, or quadruple mine. This may strike you as terrible business practice, but it’s no problem with hotels. Hotels don’t care what a doctor charges unless guests complain. They rarely do.

In addition, when concierge doctors introduce themselves to a hotel employee, extol their virtues, and offer an amenity for every referral, they have a receptive audience. It’s illegal for a doctor to pay for a referral, but no one is complaining. 

On the bright side, concierge doctors are young and busy. Immediate 24-hour service is their mantra, but providing it is impossible for anyone with a practice and social life. My leisure activities are reading and writing.

The result is that concierge doctors ask my help regularly. They send me to their patients who are increasingly guests at my hotels and those of competitors. When I retire, it won’t be because business is declining. 

A Plug for a Book

Try to find The Hotel, A Week in the Life of the Plaza by Sonny Kleinfeld. Published in 1989, it’s long out of print, but you’ll love it. Kleinfeld is a journalist who spent a week in the famous New York hotel and wrote about twenty chapters describing every position from the doorman, desk clerk and laundry worker to the kitchen staff, concierge, security, bellhops, housekeeping, and management.

I was impressed at the difficulty of keeping such an institution running smoothly and satisfying demanding guests. If you want to know the hardest job in a hotel, there’s no contest. It’s the housekeeper’s. 

The book includes a chapter on the hotel doctor that kept me scratching my head. Mostly, he complains.

It infuriates him that guests wake him up at 1 a.m. with a bad cold. I’d be thrilled by a call from an exclusive Los Angeles hotel at any hour. Why was he upset? Did he volunteer for the job? Is he working for free? I have no problem seeing guests who aren’t very sick no matter what the hour.

I take for granted that doctors go into medicine because they want to help people, and unlike other helping professions (clergyman, fireman, social worker) we’re paid very well. Almost no one calls me during wee hours unless they feel bad. That may represent poor judgment, but who thinks clearly when they’re miserable?

A Weird Letter from My Doctor

I take good care of myself, but the best life-style only postpones the inevitable.

I was seeing a cardiologist at the Pacific Heart Institute in Santa Monica. He was excellent. I would be seeing him still but for a strange letter I received.

Insurance companies and Medicare have been reducing payments, the letter began, and more cuts are threatened. In response other cardiology groups were lowering the quality of their care. Pacific Heart Institute vowed to maintain its standards. But how to do that while continuing to accept insurance?

The solution, according to Pacific Heart Institute, was an “Enhanced Access Program.” An accompanying sign-up sheet listed three levels of benefits.

For an extra $500 a year I could choose the “SELECT” level. Among its features were priority in appointments, prompt notification of test results, waiver of miscellaneous office fees, a special internet portal, and a customized wallet card with my EKG tracing.

$1800 per year would bump me to “PREMIER” status: same day appointments, direct e-mail and phone access to my cardiologist, and a free vascular risk assessment (whatever that is…).

At $7,500 a year (that’s not a typo), the deluxe “CONCIERGE” level gives 24 hour access to my “personal” cardiologist, same day visits, same day tests, and a call from my personal cardiologist to discuss results.

I could check a fourth box that merely stated “I choose not to participate… No fee.” The doctor would continue to see me if I decided not to pay up. It didn’t say he would consider me a cheapskate, but why wouldn’t he?

Paying extra to get the doctor’s attention is routine where doctor incomes are low. It was the norm in the old Soviet Union and remains so in Russia, China, and Eastern Europe.

American doctors are the world’s richest, but they didn’t get that way by ignoring sources of income. If you follow the news, you know that cash-only or “concierge” practices are a growing niche. They’re so popular that professional organizations such as the AMA have set up ethical guidelines. This strikes me as similar to setting up ethical guidelines for operating a Mexican cancer clinic, but mine is a minority view.

Seriously Burned

I awoke at my usual time, wrote for a few hours, ate breakfast, and went back to bed. Having made a wee-hour visit to a distant hotel, I was sleepy.

When business is slow, I take actions that encourage calls such as going to a movie or trying to take a nap. Unfortunately, this works when I don’t want it to, so the phone rang as I drifted off. It was a lady at the Custom hotel whom I’d seen the day before for a bad stomach virus. She was better and desperate to return home, but her insurance insisted on another exam before allowing her to travel. Making visits to guests who aren’t sick is a perk of hotel doctoring, and I was happy to comply.

Returning home I headed straight for bed, but the phone rang as my head touched the pillow. A lady at Le Parc explained that had undergone eyebrow waxing, and a clumsy cosmetologist had inflicted serious burns. I suggested that serious burns around the eye require more care than I could deliver on a housecall, but she demanded a visit.

I consoled myself with the knowledge that guests often exaggerate their problems. This proved to be the case when she showed me several pink spots over her forehead. These were mild, first-degree burns, I explained, similar to sunburn. I handed over a tube of soothing cream and assured her that they would heal completely in a week.

I was wrong, she insisted. Because of her extremely delicate skin, she would be scarred for life.

An Odd Foreign Custom

When I finish caring for American guests, I accept their thanks and money and then leave. With guests from another country, I often find myself discouraging them from accompanying me to the elevator or down to the lobby or (if it’s a private house) to my car.

I mentioned this excessive politeness to a colleague from South America.

“They probably thought you were in a hurry to get away,” he said.

When I protested, he explained.

“When I first came to the US and visited an acquaintance, I was disturbed when he shut the door behind me after I left. Did I offend him, I wondered. Is he happy to get rid of me….? In my country, you always accompany an honored guest when he leaves and make sure he is safely on his way. To stay behind is not courteous. But this is what Americans do.”      

Another Freebie

A guest at the Georgian hotel in Santa Monica wanted a housecall, said the desk clerk. She had a urine infection.

That was good news. The Georgian was not far, and urine infections are easy.

“The guest has gone to dinner,” the clerk added. “She’d like you to come at 9 o’clock.”

I hate it when hotels make an appointment without consulting me. I want to talk to guests before a visit. They need to know how much I charge and that they’ll have to pay directly. Learning this, some guests reconsider. A few guests assume the doctor is in the hotel, so it’s no big deal if they’re late or decide to skip the consultation entirely. Finally, it’s stressful to kill time at home, hoping another call doesn’t arrive to complicate matters.

Sure enough, at 8:30, as I was about to leave, the phone rang. A guest at the Airport Hilton was vomiting. Vomiters don’t like to wait. There was no way to contact the Georgian guest to suggest a delay, but I decided I could make the visit and reach the Hilton in an hour. I hurried off.

Freeway traffic stopped cold at my exit. Santa Monica was holding an arts festival. The streets were jammed.  Normally, I would park and walk the six blocks to the hotel, but this would make me outrageously late for the poor vomiter at the Hilton.

Guests usually agree to wait when I explain the problem. The Georgian guest was back in her room.

“I just flew in from London. There’s no way I can stay awake,” she said on hearing that I’d like to return later that evening.

In the end, I phoned a prescription for a urine infection into a nearby pharmacy and then drove to the airport.