It was the focal point of the article I wrote about my crummy kidneys for HOUR Detroit magazine last summer (see "Best Foot Forward", if you haven't already), but I haven't even mentioned it in the four months since I've been writing "Just Kidneying." Just goes to show you: This year has been such a dizzying whirlwind of emotion and change that I totally forgot the crippling condition that left me dependent upon canes and a walker just to move around, at the same time I was trying to pack to move from Michigan to Illinois!
In hindsight, I have no idea whether it was the succulent, Béarnaise sauce-drenched steak dinner I enjoyed with Karen at Motor City Casino in Detroit that threw my body's ecosystem into default. What I do know is, two days after savoring that incredible meal, my already imposing tootsies – about 15 DDs, depending upon the shoes – ballooned to almost twice their size, excruciatingly painful to both touch and pressure.
Imagine trying to walk steadily on a pair of small inflatable rafts, each with 100 nails sticking up into your feet. Now double that. That's close to the pain I was suffering.
Maybe the experience was so horrific that I have pushed it out of my memory! I only had one pair of shoes that would fit me, a pair of stretchy black sandals Karen bought for me on a whim. (Thank the Lord it wasn't February in Michigan!) At one point the misery became so unbearable that I would actually crawl around the floor of my apartment, my feet slightly elevated off the floor behind me and tears streaming down my face, rather than even consider the possibility of placing weight on my delicate dogs.
Once I moved to Illinois, I found a general practitioner, Dr. Randall Megeff, who had the courage to prescribe a combination of anti-gout drugs (which are potentially hazardous to the kidneys) in a well-monitored dosage, and I have had no problem with pain or swelling since. But I must tell you about the incredible act of kindness that took place during this ordeal.
Karen and I were in West Michigan for the weekend – I was getting around haltingly by means of a walker – and having Sunday breakfast with our friends Frank and Lisa Johnson from Ann Arbor. I went to high school with Frank, who now owns a very successful heating and cooling business, and have considered him a good friend for decades.
I casually mentioned the fact that we were trying to pack for my move to Illinois and having a devil of a time due to my infirmity. Without missing a beat, Frank looked up from his cup of coffee and turned to his wife.
"Lisa, have we ever been to Champaign, Illinois?" he asked.
"No, we haven't," Lisa replied.
"Would you like to go? It's a college town, you know."
"Fine with me."
"You'll need a truck. We have trucks," Frank said. "I'll just borrow one for a weekend. Tell me when you want to move."
Not only did we escape a truck rental fee, but the Tuesday before we had scheduled the move Lisa and Frank called me. "Are you at home?" Frank asked.
When I indicated I was, about an hour later he and Lisa showed up at my doorstep in a panel van, wearing old clothes and ready to work. They played Ninja Movers with the "priceless" junk I had accumulated over the years.
They sat me in a corner (I still couldn't walk, remember) and proceeded to lay boxes of my stuff before my swollen feet.
One of them would open the lid. "Can you tell me what's in this box?" they asked.
If I couldn't identify the contents within five seconds, I lost the box.
"Not going!" they would shout, and carried the box into their panel van. I was horrified!
By the time they left, they had completely filled the van with boxes of my time-honored garbage, destined for donating, recycling or plain old trashing. Talk about being proactive!
And you know what: to this day I can't tell you everything they took that night, and I haven't missed a single thing.
Needless to say, I cannot begin to imagine how difficult moving would have been without them. God sends angels into your life at the most unexpected moments. Sometimes it can be people you've known for years.
I've said it to them, and to anyone else who would listen, but let me now say it in writing: Thank you, Frank and Lisa. You are amazing human beings. You almost made having gout a blessing in disguise.
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