Solved (according to Google and a bloke in the pub)
This article is personal experience, not medical advice. Sudden joint pain should be assessed by a healthcare professional.
It had come on quickly. I went to bed as my foot was starting to throb and it progressively got worse through the night. The next morning it was throbbing big time, but nature called and I jumped out of bed. Big mistake. My foot shattered into a million pieces. My leg crumpled and I fell backwards onto the bed. But, not enough of me landed on the bed and I slid onto the floor, nearly cracking my head on the bedside cabinet.
On a pain scale of one to ten, most blokes will put being kicked in the balls at number ten. Worst pain there is? My arse! What I had just experienced was infinity plus one worse: it felt like there was broken glass in my joints, somewhere between my ankle and the sole of my foot.
The pain subsided into a heavy throbbing – a much more bearable level of pain that was on the same level as being kicked in the goolies. I looked down at my foot, expecting to see a bloody stump. I was pleasantly surprised to see my foot was completely intact, although it looked a little swollen.
After a few minutes I decided I couldn’t spend all day lying on the floor like Natalie Imbruglia. For one thing, my shoes did not make for a comfortable pillow. I braced myself for more pain and heaved myself back on to the bed.
It didn’t matter what I did, my foot was throbbing heavily. But I found that it was slightly easier if I crossed my ankles and suspended my foot in mid air, making sure it didn’t touch anything.
Half an hour passed, and nature was still calling. I decided to get out of bed the other side so that I didn’t have so far to go to the bathroom, and crashed into the wardrobe.
It took 15 minutes of leaning heavily on the wall and gingerly limping to get to the bathroom. I was also feeling thirsty, but I really didn’t like the thought of limping further down the hallway, through the living room and into the kitchen. I cupped my hands and drank from the tap, then limped back to the bedroom.
The second time I needed to go, I decided hopping was better than limping.
I couldn’t go to the doctor – I couldn’t get around the flat, let alone out of the building. A couple of days later and I was able to hobble outside and get some Paracetamol from Boots.
A few months passed, maybe even a year, and it happened again. Intense pain, seemingly from nowhere. This time, I had a glass of water by the bed and drank it first before going to the bathroom which relieved some of the pain. Unfortunately, the Paracetamol was in the Kitchen and I wasn’t up for moving that far.
About two weeks later, when I thought I was nearly fully recovered, it struck a third time. This time I had water and Paracetamol on the bedside cabinet.
When I was able to hobble around again, I went to the pub. The Usual Suspects were at the bar. One of them saw me come in.
“Why are you limping around like Keyser Soze?” he asked.
Cheeky sod! My limp was far more convincing. For starters, it was real. I told him my story.
“Sounds like gout,” he replied.
“Gout? As in ‘What have the Romans ever done for us, apart from give us Gout?” I queried.
“Well, yes. But also the roads. You can’t forget about the roads.”
“Obviously. The roads go without saying. I wish they’d come back and fill in the potholes.”
Gout, eh? Apart from being referred to as the “disease of kings” and being linked to an opulent diet of wine and other treats, I didn’t really know much about it. I would have to consult Doctor Google.
Doctor Google was surprisingly confident.
- Sudden onset of pain? Check.
- One of the most painful forms of arthritis? Check.
- Usually affects the big toe, but can strike elsewhere? Check.
- Caused by needle-shaped uric acid crystals? That explains the feeling of broken glass in my joints.
Uric acid is excreted in urine, which would also explain why I felt better after having a leak, and the need to drink a lot of water.
Yep, my mate down the pub was right: it does indeed sound like gout.
I’ve had it a number of times since, but nowhere near as bad as I worked out how to manage it. Prevention is better than cure, and hydration seems to be the main cause – at least with me. So I drink a couple of pints of water every day. This doesn’t always work, hot weather has meant I didn’t drink enough, and sudden cold weather can seem to trigger it as well. But I know the warning signs and take action by downing a lot of water. On the painkiller side, Ibuprofen is much more effective than Paracetamol, but I’m now on medications where NSAIDs are not encouraged, so have had to go back to Paracetamol.
Obviously, if you can get to the doctor then do so. This was quite a few years ago. I mentioned it to a doctor last year, and he said next time take a photo and send it to the surgery – and video calls make consultations so much easier today. The only reason I didn’t do it last time was because it was Christmas and the surgery was closed and I’d sorted myself out in the few days it was shut.
There are medicines that can be prescribed, but simple lifestyle changes may be all you need – which is what you want if you are a Reluctant Patient.
Hospital Radio
Today’s prescription: one carefully curated playlist. The connections aren’t always obvious . . .
- One Step Beyond by Madness
- Torn by Natalie Imbruglia
- Don’t Speak by No Doubt
- What Have I Done To Deserve This by The Pet Shop Boys
- Mercy by Duffy
- Shoulda Woulda Coulda by Beverley Knight
- Call Me by Spagna
In the Waiting Room
Film and TV Guide
- The Usual Suspects
- Monty Python’s Life of Brian