Who do you hire as a hotel receptionist? Well, the sort of person who plays hotel receptionist simulators in their free time and has gotten very good at them, mostly.

That is to say, the people seeing this party walk through the door would be reasonably competent at triaging even in conditions much worse than these.

Step one is to state out loud your immediate gestalt impressions of the party's medical state. More junior clinicians first.

"Giving fine, fine, fine."

"All fine."

In that case, no info justifying any particular urgent escalation, proceed to open-ended question.

"What brings you in?"

Signs scattered in various locations including just by the desk give a list of symptoms or other facts that ought to be reported immediately. The main one that might conceivably apply is "suspect you might have been poisoned."

"I've been having some unusual hallucinations, unless I've been transferred to an alternate universe with different cities and language! I suspect I might have been poisoned; can you test me for drugs?"

— okay, she gets a hospital bed, and the poison center gets access to her file. And a nurse needs to meet her at her bed.

"We'll test you. Any other issues before we walk you over? Anyone else have a problem?"

"There were too many squirrels, it was really weird."

"...are you trying to report a medical issue?"

"Oh, you were asking about medical problems?"

"I have no other medical problems that I know of."

"You her lawyer or something?"

Looks like a lawyer uniform.

...They have no formal relationship, but "or something" licenses:

"Yep."

Okay, he's going to want to go with her then.

"Does the squirrel person... know information that will help narrow down the situation?"

"The Providence guy only paid me to walk her to the hospital, technically."

"Please explicate."

These people are no fun.

"I don't know anything you can't get from texting the Providence office."

"What's your periodic rate for sticking around?"

Interesting question! No more than a couple dozen bits, empirically.

"That depends on why in tarnation you want that but I'll give you my Echo ID for six bits."

...yeah, fine.

Okay, Berra's room is over this way, they don't care about this conversation given that they can apparently just call the Providence office, it's time to head over to the hospital bed.

While they're walking: "To the order of magnitude, how long ago did you ingest the poison or first start seeing symptoms?"

"I first started seeing symptoms about... 40 minutes ago? That was when I experienced myself falling into a canyon and waking up here. Well, not here, in a Providence office. Have you heard of Providence?"

The magical metafictional translation service rendering Berra's speech into Eifweni would like to know if she means (4*6)/6^4, (4*ten)/6^4, (4*6)/(ten gross), or (4*ten)/(ten gross) of a day. 

1/36th of a day.

That would be a pretty confusing series of claims if getting confused were part of this person's job description, but it isn't. She doesn't look like she fell into a canyon — well, maybe she's been out in the sun too long — but you ask the follow-up questions anyways.

"I have heard of Providence, it's common knowledge. How'd you get here from the Providence office? Did you hit your head? Does your neck hurt? Any nausea, vomiting? Any idea how long you were unconscious, if at all?"

"I don't remember hitting my head. Neck doesn't hurt; no nausea or vomiting. I don't know how long I was unconscious, I just woke up and found myself in a Providence building, and then I got on the bus to come here."

...she'll be getting a head scan later, then.

Okay, hand off to the nurse who's about to arrive at the hospital room, and then the receptionist is going back to the front door.

The nurse is going to immediately reach under her shirt to try to put on a three-lead ECG if she doesn't object to them starting to do this.