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Mercy Hospital dumped two bags of saline in me
ASAP IVs– dripping the light fantastic
Just put it in my veins!
Like many young men in their bachelor days, there was an evening — long ago, but not quite long enough, if you take my meaning — when I found myself stumbling, staggering, lurching, reeling, and all but rolling up Fifth Avenue in Hillcrest, dehydrated, delirious, and uncertain about the sunrise, or at least my likelihood of seeing same. I passed Number 1 Fifth Avenue, passed The Brass Rail — now The Rail SD, because nothing gold can stay, Ponyboy — seeking another sort of hospitality: the hospital. The beautifully named Mercy Hospital (now Scripps Mercy, because see above). I babbled my way into the ER, a proper refugee with no insurance and no identification — I was wearing pajamas — and the kindly staff took my temperature, poked me with a needle, set up an IV, dumped two bags of saline into me, and sent me home. It wound up costing an awful lot of money, but that was later. At the time, all that mattered was that I could see straight again, and even walk a wavy line.
How far we’ve come. I will not name the restaurant that laid me low last week, but neither will I hurry back to order another of their California burritos. I started suffering in the wee hours of Tuesday morning; as I write this, it is Friday afternoon and I am only just now beginning to feel like a naturalized citizen of my own body. I credit at least part of my recovery to yesterday’s visit to ASAP IVs in La Jolla. (They’ll come to you if you prefer, but it costs a bit more, and a walk along Prospect has its own salubrious qualities.) A sunny room, a friendly nurse, a reclining leather chair and ottoman, a gentle electronic soundtrack, and oh yes, an IV hookup to their basic hydration bag ($75). Halfway through, a chat with the nurse revealed I should have been more forthcoming about my symptoms; it turns out they offer a food poisoning-specific IV cocktail that adds B-12, magnesium, the antipyretic/analgesic Toradol, and another anti-nausea medication ($205). (My chat also revealed that a lot of ASAP IV customers are there for more celebratory reasons. Or rather, post-celebratory. Ah, those heady bachelor days.)
But even my basic bag was a big help. I felt a great loosening: in my achy joints, in my pinched scalp, in my tensed jaw. When I walked out half an hour after arriving, my step was steadier than when I arrived, as was my stomach. Shades of that alarming evening under the Mercy.
Upon arriving home, I learned that ASAP IVs offers all manner of drips, promoting immunity, athletic performance, even fertility. Me, I’m putting the number in my phone in case I ever break down and go back for another one of those burritos.
Here's something you might be interested in.
Mercy Hospital dumped two bags of saline in me
ASAP IVs– dripping the light fantastic
Mercy Hospital dumped two bags of saline in me
ASAP IVs– dripping the light fantastic
Just put it in my veins!
Like many young men in their bachelor days, there was an evening — long ago, but not quite long enough, if you take my meaning — when I found myself stumbling, staggering, lurching, reeling, and all but rolling up Fifth Avenue in Hillcrest, dehydrated, delirious, and uncertain about the sunrise, or at least my likelihood of seeing same. I passed Number 1 Fifth Avenue, passed The Brass Rail — now The Rail SD, because nothing gold can stay, Ponyboy — seeking another sort of hospitality: the hospital. The beautifully named Mercy Hospital (now Scripps Mercy, because see above). I babbled my way into the ER, a proper refugee with no insurance and no identification — I was wearing pajamas — and the kindly staff took my temperature, poked me with a needle, set up an IV, dumped two bags of saline into me, and sent me home. It wound up costing an awful lot of money, but that was later. At the time, all that mattered was that I could see straight again, and even walk a wavy line.
How far we’ve come. I will not name the restaurant that laid me low last week, but neither will I hurry back to order another of their California burritos. I started suffering in the wee hours of Tuesday morning; as I write this, it is Friday afternoon and I am only just now beginning to feel like a naturalized citizen of my own body. I credit at least part of my recovery to yesterday’s visit to ASAP IVs in La Jolla. (They’ll come to you if you prefer, but it costs a bit more, and a walk along Prospect has its own salubrious qualities.) A sunny room, a friendly nurse, a reclining leather chair and ottoman, a gentle electronic soundtrack, and oh yes, an IV hookup to their basic hydration bag ($75). Halfway through, a chat with the nurse revealed I should have been more forthcoming about my symptoms; it turns out they offer a food poisoning-specific IV cocktail that adds B-12, magnesium, the antipyretic/analgesic Toradol, and another anti-nausea medication ($205). (My chat also revealed that a lot of ASAP IV customers are there for more celebratory reasons. Or rather, post-celebratory. Ah, those heady bachelor days.)
But even my basic bag was a big help. I felt a great loosening: in my achy joints, in my pinched scalp, in my tensed jaw. When I walked out half an hour after arriving, my step was steadier than when I arrived, as was my stomach. Shades of that alarming evening under the Mercy.
Upon arriving home, I learned that ASAP IVs offers all manner of drips, promoting immunity, athletic performance, even fertility. Me, I’m putting the number in my phone in case I ever break down and go back for another one of those burritos.
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