“We must all suffer from one of two pains: the pain of discipline or the pain of regret. The difference is discipline weighs ounces while regret weighs tons.”
- Jim Rohn
Today, MDJ Superstar learned a very important lesson on self-management and discipline.
I woke up yesterday with a throbbing pain at the base of my right big toe. First thought – I’m dying! Then I realized I was being silly, cause nobody had ever died of an ouchy on their big toe before. So second thought was, Okay, maybe standing for 4 straight hours at the Eraserheads concert (which rocked, incidentally) was to blame.
Spent the day in bed. Caught up on old movies. Chilled out, relaxed, rediscovered the luxuries of having zilch to do. Was thinking all along, I’ll stay off my foot the whole day, and it will get better. I’m like that, you see. My mindset has always been that physical pains can be dominated by force of will. One time back in college, I was running a super high fever that I refused to be defeated by. I told it, you can’t beat me. I will punk your ass, bitch. And so I dragged myself over to my barbell set, cranked out 16 sets of bicep/tricep work, went to sleep in a deep sweat, and woke up completely healthy the next day.
But this time around was pure fail.
Woke up at 4 in the morning with a sharp, stabbing feeling in my toe – felt like it was being amputated. Couldn’t will myself back to sleep, so I hauled out my MacBook Pro, and Googled for “foot pain”+”stabbing”+”throbbing”+”MDJ Superstar cry”-”machismo”.
Top search result: Gout.
“A build-up of uric acid crystals in the joint, primarily first striking the base of the big toe, predominantly occurring among obese males with high-protein, high uric acid diets.”
Ohhhh man. At that point, I realized I was totally fucked.
Made plans to hit Makati Med first thing in the morning, but by the time the sun came up, my foot was in agony. I couldn’t walk, I couldn’t put on a shoe, I couldn’t drive. Seriously contemplated wearing Crocs to work, but realized that is probably the biggest fashion faux pas possible in the advertising industry.
Had to hitch with my mom to work, cause I couldn’t drive and needed her driver. That was one toxic trip, let me tell you! Every bump in the road was a knife in my foot, and I ended up having to go shoeless the last 83% of the ride.
Finally got to Makati Med, and tried to be a hero about it – I had the driver let me off in front, waved off the wheelchair Manong Guard offered, and limped into the E.R. with my Wayfarers and Blue Steel pout.
Eventually got diagnosed by a doctor a couple hours later – he confirmed it was indeed gout. How do you treat it, I asked. Therapy? Drugs? A lapdance from your cute, nubile, Cebuana-looking nurse?
None of the above, Doc said. I’ll prescribe you a painkiller, but the only real way to get around this is with a makeover in your diet. No more rich food, he said, handing me a list of dietary no-no’s. I was unaffected by seeing such things as “brain” and “liver” on the list, but seeing “gravy”, “sardines”, “meat extracts, i.e. Ma Ling luncheon meat” gave me an ouchy inside my heart.
At this point, I was really in pain, and couldn’t wait to take a painkiller for the first time in my life. They hooked up this cool, evil-looking gadget into a vein in my right hand, and warned me the painkiller would sting a little bit. Bring it on, I told them, for I am MDJ Superstar, and I bow to no man! No man, I tell you!
Pero tang ina, ang sakit talaga. I wanted to let out a squeak, but that would have been very un-masculine. Hence the manly grunt I emitted instead, which sounded like a cross between a Scandinavian weightlifter on the bench press, and a cow with intestinal gas.
Got sent over to the X-Ray area to check out my foot. That was fun. I like radioactive crap.
On the way back, while waiting for Doc to get back to me, my eyes started puffing and tearing. Is this what it’s like to die? I asked myself. No sir, replied the nurse who happened to be eavesdropping next to me. I think it’s an allergic reaction to your painkiller. I can’t give you a lapdance, but I can give you a shot to counter the effects.
I looked like holy hell at this point.
For the first time in my life, I resembled a hunky Hollywood A-list actor, except that the actor in question was Will Smith, and the movie most relevant at this point was “Hitch”.
That was a really foul experience.
They warned me I would get really drowsy, so they left me to doze off in bed. Woke up two hours later feeling marvelously refreshed, less Will Smith and more MDJ Superstar again. Made some calls to my team at work, and put up with being mercilessly teased by our bitchy new CD, who I totally adore, but has no carino when it comes to me. Mark kasi, he teased. Kung saan-saan mo pa kasi nilalagay ang big toe mo eh…
Asshole.
And so I skipped over to Mercury Drug to buy some safe painkillers that my body wouldn’t reject, then swung by Subway to “eat fresh” – a footlong sub, my first food of the day, loaded with grilled chicken, parmesan cheese, and honey-mustard dressing.
And then I went home and slept.
Moral of the story:
- It’s impossible to die from an ouchy in your big toe.
- Real men neither cry nor squeak – they just grunt.
- Never expect a lap dance from a nurse.
- Pain is not your friend.
- Always wear good underwear, especially when you know you’re going to a hospital.
All in all, today was fun. This was the first time I’ve ever been in a hospital for myself, and I managed it all alone. Di talaga bagay sa akin mag-wheelchair, but I have learned to not try to be a hero. I love Medicard, btw. Didn’t have to shell out a single cent, except for when I slipped a 20-peso bill into the bra of the attending nurse…
