Ouch!
“I'm the holes in your arm
When you're feeling the shakes
I'm the lump on your head
When you step on the rake
Yes I'm pain
I'm just pain
Dear old pain
You need your pain”
--Alice Cooper from “Pain” from the lp Flush The Fashion, 1980.
I inherited a fine “condition” from my father’s side of the family (he and Grandpa Cliff) and my mother’s side of the family (Grandpa Lou) called gout.
It is basically crystallized uric acid deposits in one’s joints. The joints harden; cause swelling, redness, and pain—severe pain.
I have had eye surgery, open heart surgery, visits to the dentists, and my arm broken and I can honestly attest to this: Gout is just as painful, if not more so, than the above.
Before the heart surgery and coumadin, I could take medicine that would relieve it in about two days. Now, nah…the blood thinner will not allow me to take them.
My father, when visiting me for surgery, had it. He was miserable—he was in more pain than I was experiencing, trust me.
They once believed that gout was caused by purine-rich food like kidneys, livers, and the like. Uh-huh, like I am going to eat that crap.
My cause is usually “beer.” I had a few beers Monday evening and it flared up on Thursday. Dehydration also seems to do it.
I have discovered some other things that cause gout for me—Smartees (the little candies) and Spree and Sweet-Tarts. There is something in them that triggers it, and for the life of me, I cannot figure it out.
That “Red Hot” flavoring on certain chips seems to trigger it.
Not drinking enough water does it.
So now I take steroids—hey I will be bigger—yeah, baby.
I drank at least a gallon of water yesterday.
It is becoming better but still, hard to move.
When it kicks in, the kids tease me and refer to me as "Long John Silver" or something. One kid said, “Why are you walking funny?” I always want to answer, "To have you notice and ask a silly question." In reality, I know they care.
Yesterday when I went to the doctors, I was passing a woman who had her foot in a cast and was shuffling her feet. I walked by dragging my foot. Her husband gave me a dirty look, like I was mocking her, and I noticed the “How-insensitive-are-you" glare.
“Gout,” I said as I pointed at my foot.
“Broken toe,” said the woman.
“My dad had gout, he said it hurt like hell,” said her husband. “Good Luck with it.” I wished them the same, and then remembered that nearly everyone’s grandfather, father, great uncle; some older person in their family has this damn thing. Seriously, when I am stumbling around, and people ask what is wrong, I explain, and they say “Oh my Grandfather had that. Aren’t you a bit young?”
Ah…I only inherit the best of all worlds.
So now I need to lose weight (overweight is a factor), stay away from beer (which may help the overweight aspect), and not eat Smartees.
Oh, and it does “hurt like Hell.”
When you're feeling the shakes
I'm the lump on your head
When you step on the rake
Yes I'm pain
I'm just pain
Dear old pain
You need your pain”
--Alice Cooper from “Pain” from the lp Flush The Fashion, 1980.
I inherited a fine “condition” from my father’s side of the family (he and Grandpa Cliff) and my mother’s side of the family (Grandpa Lou) called gout.
It is basically crystallized uric acid deposits in one’s joints. The joints harden; cause swelling, redness, and pain—severe pain.
I have had eye surgery, open heart surgery, visits to the dentists, and my arm broken and I can honestly attest to this: Gout is just as painful, if not more so, than the above.
Before the heart surgery and coumadin, I could take medicine that would relieve it in about two days. Now, nah…the blood thinner will not allow me to take them.
My father, when visiting me for surgery, had it. He was miserable—he was in more pain than I was experiencing, trust me.
They once believed that gout was caused by purine-rich food like kidneys, livers, and the like. Uh-huh, like I am going to eat that crap.
My cause is usually “beer.” I had a few beers Monday evening and it flared up on Thursday. Dehydration also seems to do it.
I have discovered some other things that cause gout for me—Smartees (the little candies) and Spree and Sweet-Tarts. There is something in them that triggers it, and for the life of me, I cannot figure it out.
That “Red Hot” flavoring on certain chips seems to trigger it.
Not drinking enough water does it.
So now I take steroids—hey I will be bigger—yeah, baby.
I drank at least a gallon of water yesterday.
It is becoming better but still, hard to move.
When it kicks in, the kids tease me and refer to me as "Long John Silver" or something. One kid said, “Why are you walking funny?” I always want to answer, "To have you notice and ask a silly question." In reality, I know they care.
Yesterday when I went to the doctors, I was passing a woman who had her foot in a cast and was shuffling her feet. I walked by dragging my foot. Her husband gave me a dirty look, like I was mocking her, and I noticed the “How-insensitive-are-you" glare.
“Gout,” I said as I pointed at my foot.
“Broken toe,” said the woman.
“My dad had gout, he said it hurt like hell,” said her husband. “Good Luck with it.” I wished them the same, and then remembered that nearly everyone’s grandfather, father, great uncle; some older person in their family has this damn thing. Seriously, when I am stumbling around, and people ask what is wrong, I explain, and they say “Oh my Grandfather had that. Aren’t you a bit young?”
Ah…I only inherit the best of all worlds.
So now I need to lose weight (overweight is a factor), stay away from beer (which may help the overweight aspect), and not eat Smartees.
Oh, and it does “hurt like Hell.”
posted by Eric Sweetwood at 9:22 AM
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