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âOuch,â I said this morning â and not in my usual ah-my-back-is-just-warming-up sort of way. No, this was a new one. A sharp little reminder from somewhere deep in the kidney department, like a mischievous elf poking me with a cocktail stick.
Now, any sensible person would shrug it off. Unfortunately, my brain went straight into medical drama mode, complete with flashbacks to the excruciating pain of kidney stones past. I could almost hear the soundtrack from ER swelling in the background.
All day, itâs been like having a tiny metronome ticking in my sides â not painful exactly, just⊠ominous. You know that feeling when your body seems to be whispering, âIâm up to something, old chapâ?
And then, the eternal question: Did I drink too much water yesterday? (Surely not.) Or not enough? (Probably.) So, here I am late afternoon, glass in hand, trying to flush out whatever plot my kidneys are hatching.
If nothing else, Iâve learned that hydration is a tricky mistress â too little and youâre a raisin, too much and youâre a fountain.
Anyway, Iâm not quite the cheerful old git I usually am. More the slightly grumpy, cautiously hydrated version.
So if you see me clutching a bottle of water and looking suspiciously at my own midsection, donât worry. Itâs just me, trying to keep the plumbing in working order.
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Les reins qui font la gueule
« AĂŻe ! » que jâai dit ce matin en sortant du lit. Pas le dos raide habituel, non non, un petit pincement sournois du cĂŽtĂ© des reins. Pas bien mĂ©chant, mais juste assez pour rĂ©veiller de vieux souvenirs⊠ah, les fameuses coliques nĂ©phrĂ©tiques ! Rien quâĂ y penser, jâen ai des frissons.
Et me voilĂ , fin dâaprĂšs-midi, Ă sentir de temps en temps une sorte de frisson sur les flancs. Pas vraiment une douleur, mais une inquiĂ©tude qui sâinstalle. Je nâaime pas ça, non monsieur.
Alors je me pose la grande question existentielle du jour : ai-je trop bu dâeau hier ? Pas sĂ»r. Pas assez ? Probable. Bref, je mâattaque au problĂšme Ă la racine : un grand verre dâeau Ă la main, en espĂ©rant calmer mes tuyauteries internes.
Parce quâĂ nos Ăąges, lâhydratation, câest un peu comme la mĂ©canique : trop sec, ça grippe ; trop plein, ça fuit.
Bref, aujourdâhui, je ne suis pas exactement le vieux rigolo enjouĂ© que je devrais ĂȘtre. PlutĂŽt une version lĂ©gĂšrement grognon, en mode « attention, zone sensible ».
Si vous me croisez avec une bouteille dâeau Ă la main et lâair soupçonneux, pas dâinquiĂ©tude : câest juste moi qui nĂ©gocie une trĂȘve avec mes reins.

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