First of all, I'm pretty sure that I don't really have the gout. I just put that in the title to get your attention. Snappy, huh? Is there anything more attention-grabbing than gout?

Actually, I'm not 100% positive that I don't have it. Yesterday I was convinced I did. The symptoms are all there. The joint of my big toe mysteriously and dramatically started hurting the other day, and I have no recollection of injuring it. It just hurts and is all swollen and makes walking very unpleasant. So I went over to Web MD and started surfing the symptoms, and settled on gout as the possible cause. I actually got quite an edumacation on the subject, because I had always been under the impression that gout was something infectious, like gangrene. Also, I didn't know it still existed. I thought it was something that old Puritan men got during wet New England weather in the 1600's. Like if we were playing a word association game before yesterday, and you said "gout," I probably would have said "The Scarlet Letter." Wait, when was that book set? I don't know. But definitely that era comes to mind. Like, "Goodie Trumble, thy ministrations are sorely needed for mine gout." You know what I mean.

Anyway, it turns out I was slightly right. It's not anything like gangrene, it's actually a type of arthritis. But only old men get it. Or more specifically, nine out of ten gout sufferers are middle-aged men. I was relieved, and slightly horrified to read this. The rational side of my brain said, "Well, thank God then, it's not the gout." But something else in my brain said, "It would be just like you to be the one out of ten that somehow acquired a middle-aged man's disease." And then I imagined having to tell people that I have gout. I thought about starting a support group for young people with gout, if there are any, and tried to figure out some funny acronym for it (all I came up with was YAMM: Young Adults with Middle-aged Maladies.) (Also, if you're silently judging me right now for thinking about it this much, kindly shut up. I have an active imagination and a boring job.) I wondered if I would be able to tell bad weather was coming by the pain in my foot, and decided it might fun to periodically announce, "Bad storm a-coming, Hiram. I kin feel it in my rheumatiz."

So, anyway, my mystery ailment continues without the satisfaction of even having a fake explanation for it. I was bitter about the gout during the few hours I thought I had it, but at least the enemy had a face, you know? I'm going to have to go to the doctor soon, I guess, but I'm afraid that it might be something scary. Bunions? Ganglions? Something requiring surgery? I don't wish it to be any of these, but my medical knowledge is not extensive enough to think of anything more realistic. If I find out what it is, you'll be the first to know. Unless it's serious. "I Gots the Polio, Yo" just doesn't sound as funny.

--M