My Left Foot

On a typical Thursday morning just a little over a month ago, I awoke to the buzz of my alarm clock. I lay there for a moment contemplating my day and my morning workout. Nothing special just an easy Thursday heading towards the weekend. I sat up in bed and turned to place my feet on the floor. As my feet hit the hardwood, I felt something shoot up my left foot. Now, I’ve never gotten the holy ghost or spoken in tongues but the sound that emanated from me came from deep within my gut and can only be described as tribal. I screamed a piercing high pitched melodious Phantom of the Opera, Three Tenors, Minnie Ripperton glass shattering note, and I cried. I cried hard.  I cried for the all the injustices in the world, I cried for the suffering children of Africa you know, the ones with the flies all over their faces, and I cried for myself…this was some unprecedented painful shit people. I felt like it went on for an hour but in reality, it was probably less than 30 seconds.

At some point I regained my composure and I don’t know what the hell I was thinking, or I guess I wasn’t because I put my foot down again. Now, I thought what I had experienced the first time was pain but folks, this was some other level shit. I didn’t know what to do to stop the ever-increasing painful agony. So, I just lifted my foot in the air and it worked, momentarily. But as soon as the pain realized where I had placed my foot it reacted like “so that’s where you went” and immediately shot the red-hot fire right back into it. So now I’m sitting with my foot in the air and screaming in excruciating pain because I have no idea what the hell is going on. So, I lowered my foot slowly, but didn’t let it hit the floor…now what?

I got up and hopped on one foot to turn the light on. I looked down (mistake) and this time I covered my mouth because what I saw made me want to scream not in pain but in terror. At the bottom of my ankle was this big red swollen mass of flesh with toes peeking out. Seriously, it looked like a scene from some comical horror film. My foot was the size of a small round black bomb like from a Looney Tunes cartoon and it was throbbing like it was about to explode. I looked like the spawn of big foot. It was so puffed up I’m surprised it didn’t just float away. It was so big that…ok, I’m all out of metaphors but you get the point, sucka was big.

So, what you may ask, was wrong with my enormous pontoon? Gout. Yep, I’ve officially become an old man with gout. All I need now is a walker, orthopedic slippers and some adult diapers. Now to be clear I diagnosed myself before ever heading to the doctor. I googled…which was a mistake. Although my self-diagnosis was correct I also found a lot of misinformation. A lot! One website insisted I should immediately stop eating all types of meat, fish and most fruit & vegetables. WTF. What was I expected to eat, humans? But the one that struck me like a bolt of lightning was when I googled again, and it said no more alcohol…ever. None. Nada. Zippo. To be clear this website said that I was to spend the remainder of my life in a constant state of sobriety which is bad enough in a normal world but in this current Trump era? Blasphemy! Shoot me! Seriously, just kill me now. Most people who know me know that I’ve been known to occasionally indulge in the spirits. You know every now and then… (ominous music plays in the background)…ok, I’m a drunk. But at least I admit it and the thought of going through life without the use of alcohol as a crutch to help me get through the good and bad was just unnerving.

Fortunately, I’m blessed with a great medical plan which allowed me to immediately hobble in my flip flops for a chat with my personal White Coat. He explained to me that yes most of the things I read were true but the foods I read about could be eaten in moderation. Nobody was asking me to become a cannibal. So, I asked him in what I thought was a calm voice but in reality, was me speaking through tears brought on by the thought of the aforementioned sobriety, “what about liquor?”. He paused, I think intentionally. It was like a cliff hanger from a soap opera. I sat there waiting for his answer as the music pumped slowly to a crescendo and the camera alternated between close ups of my face and his. Finally, he said, “yes…in moderation”. When I came to (because surely, I had passed out from sheer joy) I found myself thanking him profusely. I was shaking his hand and damn near doing back flips…uh, maybe I should consider sobriety.

Anyway, the foot swelling and pain lasted a good two weeks and since then I’ve been eating just chicken, select vegetables, fruit and a lot of milk and dairy. Lactose intolerance be damned (lets loose silent fart). No red meat, pork or shellfish. And the liquor? Frankly I’m scared to death. The idea of my foot swelling to the size of an elephant’s hoof again is terrifying. I’ve had a total of three shots over a three-week period…yes, I counted and measured. Maybe I should share my story at an AA meeting. Could prove to be a great cautionary tale.