You did not mean to but you almost killed me. PART 3

(How a change of scenery can make a big difference)

But, life continues and each of us do our own benchmarking so good days and bad days and happy and unhappy become relative terms — mercifully so for some of us. And we pop the pills because we don’t want to die tomorrow or end up dragging an oxygen bottle behind the wheelchair. And your family loves you and cares for you and so they encourage you and remind you so you take the pills.

Then one bright Saturday morning whilst visiting the kids at their lovely place at the coast, I woke up with a fire burning in my one big toe: red and swollen and too sensitive to touch. The pain is very bad when you lie down but worse when you sit up with the foot down and just as bad when you elevate it. Putting your shoes on is an interesting exercise but what helps is when you bite down on a stick. Walking is no worse than sitting or lying down but really irritating because everybody is having to wait for you and going faster (even when biting down on a stick) is not a consideration. So I went to the local doctor. He comes highly recommended and it is said of him that he tells you exactly what his diagnosis is. Wonderful — another maverick. Are you sure the guy can be trusted? What if it is just a distraction so you don’t read the framed document on the wall in his consulting room? So he introduces himself and gracefully adjusts to my pace of walking so he does not beat me by the length of the passage. What seems to be the problem, he asks. What do I say? Surely his diagnosis was ninety percent complete by the time I had taken the second step. So I tell him I don’t like walking like that. Let us take a look, he reckons. He cranes his neck to inspect the joint from all angles, brings his fingers close but don’t actually touch the skin (smart move for a guy who needs his hands to do his job) and says; yes, definitely, it is gout. No kidding! That was not hard. So we sat down at the desk after another round of biting down on the stick to get the shoe back on and he started asking questions. Has this happened before? When was the last time? How old was your grandfather when he died? Have you eaten any shellfish recently? What other medication do you take? Oh, I see! Are you sure it is Cozaar Comp and not just Cozaar. Sure sure my man. Been doing it for years, how would I not be sure. Does you GP know about the big red big toe thing? Oh, he does! Well, ok, let’s see. And has he said anything about the Cozaar Comp? Not? Perhaps you must mention it to him. Yes, sure I will. Thank you for the advice. But what the hell must I tell him about the stupid pill? He opened the very thick book and read from it. (They all have this but I think only some know what it is for.) Comp is a diuretic that is claimed to make the Cozaar a bit more effective — some say. But the very thick book explicitly says be careful of people with a tendency to get gout and some other very Latin words that says renal-this and renal-that. So the stupid pills are dehydrating me and thus make the gout crystals much more likely to form? Yes, something like that. And if I stop taking the pills? It will get better eventually but it might take a long time since there seems to be substantial damage to the joint already and it could take months before the uric acid levels are back to normal. During that time you may get a few more attacks. Thank you kind doctor — but actually, you have no idea how pissed off I am right now. I would love to storm out of your office to go and give that other white coated guy a piece of my mind but I guess I will just gently limp back to my car. But I am grateful — really I am and not only for the shot in my behind with that nice cocktail that will have me dancing again by sunset.

So I talked to the nice GP at home whom I have known for a good thirty years. I took my sick kids to the man and thought he would do his best for them. Shows you nè. He does not even look in the thick book. He simply scribbles two pieces of paper: one for the chemist for new pills and one to tell the medical insurance that his brilliance will save them the cost of many future gout treatments. Thank you my friend. It is so good to know you care.

Am I boring you? Almost done — but then by the pattern of this it may be the next episode may be upon me if I don’t type (and you read) much faster now.

(Watch this space — the saga is far from over)