Thank you Craig, Brock & Miss V for the kind words.
Today thanks to time, the new anti-inflammatory pills and God, I can walk and move around. Two full weeks I was not able to function as normal.
This is something I would only wish on an enemy at best.
Nasty shit it is. Damn glad I'm over it.
I remember family reunions. Sitting around as a youngster, listening to the gray haired folks tell stories from their younger days. Fascinated by their stories.
How many of you remember an old aunt or uncle having gout?
How many of you have experienced gout?
For the past 2 weeks I have the wonderful experience of gout. And let me tell you, it sucks.
The Friday before last I spent about 4 hours in the garden. That evening watching the boob tube, I had a slight pain in my ankle, like needing to crack your knuckle. No biggie, my ankles pop & crack all the time.
Saturday morning at 5am my alarm went off. I popped out of bed from those days of reveille or a trash can banging DI at basic (trainer for you young pukes). Old habits die hard.
So up I jump and down I go. Hit the floor with a loud "FUCK"
I manage to drag my ass up and to the bathroom to "try" the 3 S's. My ankle is swelled a little but hurts like a MF.
I some how make it to work by 6. By this time it aches all the way up to my hip. Not that simple panging pain, but a deep bone ache. It was so bad I contemplated calling my boss and telling him to find someone to get their ass in.
So fast forward to yesterday and 4 days in bed. For a week and a half I have been hobbling around with a serious limp. As in I can't flex my ankle. Tylenol, Naproxen and Ibprofen don't cut this shit. My ankle is swelled up so big that my toes can't touch the ground when my foot is flat and they look like Vienna sausages.
I can tolerate quite a bit of pain, but this is a deep bone aching pain that try as I might, there was no way to push through it.
I gave in to my wife's nagging a head to the doctor. Nope, not broke or sprained. You have GOUT.
He wrote me a anti-inflammatory for gout and vicoden for the pain.
The morale of the story is that if I needed to respond to something, I was screwed.
I was completely immobile. No shuffle, maybe crawl or hop. Another words, a sitting duck.
So there comes to mind that thing Bill's been harping on......Local, Local, Local
Because when you you really need help, folks 60 minutes away, hell 30 or even 15 minutes away are just too far.