Andrew J. Lederer

is much better and never got to the crippling point i reached the first time i had an attack, maybe because i went to the hospital and had a deep-dish anti-inflammatory shot before getting to the point where it was too painful to walk.

because of that, i'm not even gonna go in and get the stomach-destroying medicine that was prescribed for me.

i'm not being an idiot -- gout attacks go away whether you do anything or not. treatment is about pain, so as long as my pain is minimal and i'm mobile, i might as well not put stuff into my body that, last time, my doctor made me take with two stomach medications and a full meal, yet it still caused bleeding that required me to stop taking it. (yes, that was partly because i'd hurt my stomach before i started taking it, but the doctor didn't know that when he made me cushion myself thrice over, so . . . )

if the 600 mg of motrin i'm taking every 4-6 stops working, i'll go in and get the indomethacin and colchicine, but, for now, i'll pass. it's worth noting that last time, when my doctor took me off the indomethacin after just a few days, he said, "i'm more worried about your stomach than your foot." (it's not so good beyond the gastrointestinal effects, either.)

the positive side of this is that it's put me back on water, which i've been drinking like a fish (by immersing my whole body and swimming through it as i do).

i'd wanted to drink more water; i'd meant to, but instead i drank coffee and diet soda and felt dehydrated but hoped more diuretics (which both of those are) would somehow supply the hydration i needed.

and i'm so fucking persnickety. my apartment co-inhabitor was keeping the brita water-filtering pitcher out by him, so i stayed away from it, even when it was in the 'frigerator, fearing it had been drunk directly out of (which seems unlikely given it's design) or otherwise rendered impure in some fashion.

what?! less pure than aspartame?.

than a bottle of soda purchased from a small, dark, cluttered shop with a cat running around it?

boy, water makes your skin look good.

my hands are beautiful. (i'm sure my new tube of sunblock is helping with that as well.)

but i don't regret the coffee.

just the other day, it took me to a little corner place near the current domicile, with outdoor tables placed perfectly for watching the passing parade. sitting there, i met an artist who'd moved to the neighborhood in 1957 to go to art school and never left.

he told me about the elevated train that used to rumble above myrtle avenue and all the demographic and sociological changes during the decades he's been around.

and then we were joined by his friend, who'd come to the neighborhood as an art student in 1971, after leaving the (vietnam-era) army, and had likewise settled in what was for many an undesirable neighborhood and seen it through its darkest days and its many changes.

there we were, new yorkers from three different eras -- two of us natives -- talking about the places we grew up, their differences and similarities, our mothers (it was mother's day); learning from each other.

it was a trip.

so, i'm gonna go back there, gout or no gout.

but next time, maybe i'll have a hot chocolate.