Laughter’s the best medicine, but a cocktail is up there

ROBERT GARDNER

The Corona del Mar Centennial Committee interviewed a bunch of us

old-timers a few days ago.

After I left, I was trying to remember some of the early

businesses in Corona del Mar and came up with the two markets -- the

All American, now an Albertsons, and Coast Super, where the Health

Emporium stands.

We always shopped at the All American and continued when it became

Albertsons. One day, however, I went into the Health Emporium,

thinking to save myself several blocks of walking. There in front of

me was a long aisle of intriguing products.

“What’s all this?” I asked the clerk.

“Vitamins.”

Vitamins? I ran for my life. A vitamin almost killed me once.

It began when I commented to my daughter that I got cramps in my

legs at night.

“You need potassium,” she said. While her degree was in English,

she fancies herself quite the medical expert. “Bananas, or even

better, a vitamin-mineral supplement.”

The next day, there was a bottle of vitamins on the breakfast bar.

I opened it and took out a very large pill, which I swallowed with

water, or tried to swallow because it stuck in my throat. I swallowed

more water, but it didn’t move. I tried coughing to bring it up. No

luck. It was stuck. Not only that, it was like a sponge enlarging. It

felt like I had a golf ball in my throat. Soon, my throat would close

completely, and I wouldn’t be able to breathe.

I called my daughter, but she wasn’t home, so I called a cab and

was whisked to the emergency room at Hoag Hospital, where I rushed to

the admission station. The woman there was amazingly calm considering

the circumstances. She took my information and directed me to a seat,

where I waited.

And waited. Until my daughter trotted in.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

“What’s wrong?” I said. “I have one of your damn vitamin pills

stuck in my throat.”

“What are you doing here?” she asked. “This place is for

emergencies. Everyone who comes in here with a bigger problem, which

means everyone who comes in here, will get in ahead of you.”

This showed that neither she nor the emergency room personnel

recognized an emergency when presented with one; however, tired of

waiting, I went along with her plan to take me to the walk-in, where,

unlike the so-called emergency room, they recognized an emergency

when they saw one and ushered me right in. Or maybe it was because no

one was waiting, but anyway, a solicitous doctor poked and prodded

and pried and then pronounced, “The pill has dissolved. It’s gone.”

“Oh, no,” I told him. “I can still feel it.”

“That’s because your throat is probably a little bruised. It

should go away in a day or two.”

What an absurd diagnosis. A little bruised. There were undoubtedly

major lacerations, which is what I announced as I got back in the

car. It was amazing I could even totter into the house with such an

injury, but I made it, and after such a traumatic day, I decided to

take my medical treatment into my own hands.

I poured myself a rum and Coke. I took a sip, and wonder of

wonders, the pain in my throat disappeared. Why hadn’t the doctor

thought about this?

So here’s my suggestion for the medical profession: prescribe more

cocktails and fewer vitamin pills, and the world will be a healthier

place. Or at least a more cheerful one.

* ROBERT GARDNER is a Corona del Mar resident and a former judge.

His column runs Tuesdays.