Before we get into my bad behaviour on Saturday night, let’s start this week with a few important updates. I’m not ready yet to acknowledge my stupidity so let’s ease into this true confession, okay?
First off, I removed the alfalfa sprouts topping my eggs benny yesterday, but proceeded to eat the potentially deadly soft-poached eggs. Sprouts can kill. Does ridding my meal of one potential germ carrier counterbalance not ridding it of another? I didn’t really think so either.
Second, my taxes are ready to be dropped at the accountant’s office later today. I too am in shock.
Third, every time I pop a piece of sugarless gum in my mouth, which is rare these days, I remind myself that I cannot go swimming because my urine will be traceable in the pool. Not that I pee in the pool. Not that I even swim in public pools anymore, although I used to at one time. Sometimes I start thinking of how much pool water I probably swallowed over the years and I get a little queasy. I doubt I’ll ever set foot in a pool again, so perhaps I can stop fretting about my sugarless-gum consumption.
Fourth, and with acknowledgement of my idiocy, I was feeling especially froggy on the weekend. My gout-related bumps (tophi) are slowly growing. I am developing one on the end of a finger, the first to cause me some discomfort. What if my painful lump interferes with my ability to type my blog? Only Saddy truly understands how upsetting this would be.
Instead of dealing with this problem by calling Dr. Foie Gras, my go-to doctor for such issues, I performed an internet search. I wondered what would happen if my body continued to overproduce uric acid, collections of which cause these little lumps. A uric-acid-reducing medication may have contributed to my near-fatal liver failure four years ago, so I’ve been forbidden from taking any since. I’m hoping there are other options.
Let’s not even talk about what I learned on those highly reputable internet health sites. I don’t want to upset you or to haunt you since, for all I know, you too may cross bridges before they’re even built. What I read was not nearly as upsetting as the accompanying photographs. I happened upon a photo of a gruesome tophi-ridden hand likely belonging to the Wicked Witch of the West. It was truly grotesque. (I will spare you by not reproducing that image here. You needn’t be traumatized like I was.)
So not only did I look on the internet for health information, I did it right before bed when I was absolutely pooped. What was I thinking? I needn’t solicit material to inspire nightmares right before bed. Needless to say, my fifth update of note is that my long-vanquished insomnia returned that night. Better not to sleep than to risk a nightmare, I say.
Today, I will be contacting Dr. Foie Gras’s office to see if I might schedule a visit. Hopefully his administrative assistant, who is prone to ignoring my desperate pleas for help, will contact me promptly with an appointment time. If not, I will follow up by sending a copy of that photograph to her. That’ll light a fire under her, for sure.