Reprieve from affliction: OVER!

Ow. On Sunday I finished my steroid regime for the gout (or 'gouty arthrtis', as the prescription's accompanying literature called it: I can have happy days, jaunty days, pouty days and now, gouty days) and Monday morning it began to creep back until by mid-afternoon, I was barely ambulatory and only had to make it to the doctor's office, then to the the pharmacist, then the grocery store, driving all the while on the FOOT FROM HELL. I should probably go back to the pharmacists and say, you know, the other day, well, I'm sorry - but hell, if they're filling out an aggressive script for high levels of Prednisone and pain killers - I'll leave it up to them to put 2 and 2 together and throw me some slack. Home, I ripped open the bottles and glugged the requisite pills, evoking some Valley of the Dolls shit. At one point, I even tried breathing like apparently they teach you in child birth classes, thinking that may help and hoping I didn't inadvertently produce something from my labors, ha ha. All I got was a bemused look from the dog. But I have to say (and not for the first time): yaye for drugs! I woke up at 5, seemingly fully rested, foot completely back to normal. Of course, by the time I finish with this batch, I'll probably have a bad case of Jerry Lewis head (just Google: Jerry Lewis big head and you'll get a hit and see what I mean), but pain has no vanity. At least mine doesn't.

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