I thought yesterday that I might be getting gout again: a suspicion confirmed this morning when I couldn’t put any weight on my left foot without wincing. Fortunately, I have a course of pills to take, and, assuming the attack is like the previous ones, I’ll have 24 hours of excruciating pain, with the effect of the pills kicking in the day after. Today’s Friday; I hope to be walking normally again on either Sunday or Monday.
Gout is an unpleasant augury of what life will be like when mobility is limited, and every tottering step is painful. It immediately makes me feel ten years older. The second thing to go, after my sense of balance, is my sense of humour. There’s nothing funny about gout…
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