I thought gout was a disease limited to old farts in nursing homes, not 35-year-old good ol' boys like me. But I knew something wasn't right when my left ankle looked like a hippo's chubby stump. I asked one of my co-workers for his humble opinion.
"Does my foot look fat in this shoe?" I joked, pointing down to the throbbing mass exploding out of my Sketchers. "I swear my left ankle looks twice as big as my right."
"I don't know... I actually think your right foot looks half the size of your left," the half-full/half-empty smartass replied.
Since mule-like stubbornness runs on both sides of my family, I continued to work on my swollen hoof until I was limping around like a three-legged sea turtle. A couple of days later, I called in sick to work as my foot had ballooned so much I could no longer put on my shoe. It was probably for the best as my pace had slowed to that of a three-toed sloth with two broken toes. It was at this point I finally decided it was time to see a doctor.
The pain associated with a gout attack is astonishing. I have a high pain threshold along with an even loftier level of stupidity when it comes to seeking medical attention. Best example: A few years ago, I worked for three consecutive 12-hour days with a broken wrist before finally fetching Doc Baker. On a pain scale of 1 to 10, I view a 10 as pain so severe it causes you to pass out. Gout pain ranks a 9.9.
The agony honestly made me consider amputation as a potential solution. I thought about that guy who got pinned under a rock while mountain climbing, then saved himself by hacking off a limb with his pocket knife. I figured I could still live a fairly normal life minus a leg, so I started searching my pockets hoping to find a Swiss Army Knife, keys, fingernail clippers, a credit card - anything to start the cutting process. All I found was a wad of lint and 43 cents, none of it sharp enough to saw off my redwood-sized leg just above the ankle.
Instead, I took 4 painkillers and tried daydreaming to numb the pain. There were some pretty bitchin' state of the art prosthetic legs out there now days. I would have done anything to relieve myself of that gout pain, even settling for an old creaky wooden peg leg.
That would probably signal a career change. How much training would I really need to make the transition from warehouse manager to pirate? All I'd need is a new uniform, complete with a ruffled shirt, a parrot on my shoulder and an eyepatch. Hell, I already own an eyepatch, how hard could it be to find the other two? But before I could pledge allegiance to the Jolly Roger flag, my big sister butt in. She told me not to become Captain Hook just because of gout. I was aiming too low with the pirate plan.
"Why be a pirate when you could be a gladiator?" she asked.
She even sent an inspirational picture to cheer me up. It showed a dog who was paralyzed from the third and fourth nipples down, yet still lived a normal life thanks to a specially designed chariot that took the place of her useless, dangling hind legs. She also said the dog, who should be renamed Ben-Her, was available for adoption at a shelter in north Florida.
Despite the humor in this, it could not take away the pain. And here I thought laughter truly was the best medicine. Not when it comes to gout, Doc Baker reminded me.
"Your ankle probably feels like your nuts would if you were kicked in the groin by a horse," Doc Baker said with his typically blunt bedside manner.
He had the pain diagnosed to a T. I looked at his medical school diploma and marveled that the University of Iowa could teach its students such balls-on accurate analogies to describe a patient's pain.
Now I was ready for the good news. If they can invent a little blue pill to make a guy's dick swell up, surely they must have a tiny pink pill to make other body parts deflate. That wasn't entirely true. There was an anti-gout medication, but it didn't guarantee complete prevention of outbreaks. It just potentially prevented them, or at least made outbreaks "less severe." Kind of like that herpes medication from those TV commercials that actually allows some lady to ride bike or go swimming with her boyfriend. It's a brand new day! Yipee!
Besides handing me the prescription, Doc Baker delivered some bad news. He hurled a horrible four-letter word my way, and to my dismay, it wasn't shit or fuck. It was much worse. Diet.
Doc Baker told me gout attacks can be caused by consuming the following items in mass quantities: Beer, pizza, cheese, red meat and certain seafoods like scallops. I eat everything in mass quantities, especially pizza, cheese, red meat and seafood. I didn't even want to ask about pop tarts.
Many aged foods could cause my joints - specifically the ones in my ankles or big toes - to swell up like a roadkill carcass in July. I couldn't believe my ears, so I asked for a second opinion from the nurse standing next to Doc Baker.
"He's right," Florence Nightingale said. "You can't have beer and pizza anymore."
"You've got to be kidding me," I said, devastated, with tears starting to roll down my cheeks. "Are you trying to give me a heart attack?"
"If we don't give you a coronary now, all the beer and pizza eventually will," joked Flo. "And you'll have a lot of gout problems along the way."
"No more beer and pizza?" I whined while weeping heavily. "You could have just as well told me I have a terminal illness."
No more beer and pizza. It was as if someone had just yanked out my feeding tube. I give myself 10 days to live, tops.
3 comments:
No organ meat either, Kojak.
But colchicine does work well, as my (not so ancient) father and my semi-ancient but definitely doesn't act her age great Aunt Helene will tell you.
Rocky, I hope you're feeling better!
Of course your University of Iowa trained physician was able to accurately describe your pain. Iowa is the land of great physician training and even better meth labs.
I hope you are now feeling better. I also recalled Bobby Hill's love of chopped liver when I read your post. Bobby used a rascal scooter to move around, and those scooters are pretty sweet.
If you must forsake beer, I can recommend a few brands of scotch for your imbibing pleasure. Mmm, alcohol.
Post a Comment