Dear Gout, I’m breaking up with you. I appreciate the time we had together and everything I’ve learned from you, but it’s over; I don’t want you in my life anymore. Before we met, I’d heard about you. I know you’ve been around, going from person to person–often a single night, but frequently returning to wreak havoc again and again. You came to me in the middle of the night–unannounced and unwelcome. You woke me out of a sound sleep, first showing up as a cramp at the base of my big toe, and then later as a pain so profound you had me wide awake and rolling around in bed. I used to think you were kind of a joke, Gout. You really should change your name–bring it out of medieval times. I know you’re supposed to be the disease of royalty, what with all the rich food and drink, …