About a week ago Saturday, I could not put any weight on my right ankle because of excruciating pain. I could barely hobble to the bathroom with the aid of a cane. And descending the stairs was only accomplished the way a one-year-old does it: on my backside, taking steps one-at-a-time. The cause of the pain was a mystery. I could not recall any trauma or misstep that might have resulted in this apparent damage. The foot and ankle seemed swollen, but not blown-out like a purple grapefruit - as usually happens with an injury sprain.
I stayed immobile and fairly agitated most of Saturday. Convinced that something was broken, I showed up at the doctors office on Monday hoping to get it X-rayed. After examining the pictures, the doctor said he could see no bone fracture. He believed the problem is Gout.
"Gout? Isn't that what fat old men who drink too much beer?" I scowled.
"Yes. So what is your question ....?"
Naturally, I got a lecture about my unhealthy eating and drinking habits and lack of exercise. But also a prescription for a steroid (Prednisone) to quell the inflammation.
"Steroids? Hmm, will this help my batting average?" I wondered.
"Definitely, and if I were you I would get over to Fenway Park. They need some help."
The drugs seem to be working, so am getting back to normal. I mowed the lawn a few days ago without any painful after-effects. Last Friday, I attended the monthly retirees lunch with my old Northeastern Univ. cronies. When they observed me nursing a light beer, I was subjected to a hearty round of mockery. I protested that one should not drink alcohol when one is taking drugs.
Jack, who is about my age and shares a fondness for fermented barley and malt, told me that he has had a number of close encounters with gout for years, and has, at times, been so debilitated that he has needed a wheelchair or crutches to get around. When I asked how he controls it, he replied without equivocation that he now has it completely under control. He takes a drug 2 pills a day which flushes his system, and he is never bothered by it anymore. He even washes the pills down with beer. He calls Budweiser "The Beverage of the Gods." Well, who am I to argue with such overwhelming expert medical testimony? I ordered another bud.
Lest the reader think I am too glib for my own good, let me assure you that I take this assault on my mobility very seriously. The ability to go up and down stairs is taken for granted until suddenly you find yourself incapacitated. Perhaps it is time for a change in diet and lifestyle. As they say, the sight of the guillotine sharpens the thinking.
Or, is it the drugs?
3 comments:
Steroids huh? Do you like two raisins with your cereal?
Each to his own taste. You should see my bat.
Maybe you need to start jogging down the street to drink beer with Larry?
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