On my way down to breakfast at the hotel where we were staying in Carletonville, I had to pass Bush’s room and noticed the door was open. Glancing in I saw Bush fully clothed, sitting on the end of his bed with his left leg across the other leg, his shoe and sock missing. He had a bottle of Cepacol mouthwash and was carefully pouring it on his resplendently red, glowing big toe. I just had to ask what he was doing and in a painwracked voice he revealed that he had woken with a savage pain in his big toe, which was as hot as a glowing ember and too painful to even touch.
Having had an occasional attack of gout myself, I knew just how much he was hurting but I laughingly submitted that Cepacol would be ineffective, to which he replied, “I was so desperate for some cooling relief that I tried everything I had”. It was quite pitiful to watch the old guy, who avoided doctors like the plague normally, eagerly hobbling off to the nearest surgery.
All sufferers know that a single tiny Colchicine tablet cures the malady within an hour but one will go to considerable lengths to prevent another attack. It is said that only the pain of childbirth is more severe. I suspect Bush kept a supply of Colchicine on hand ever after.
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