I have finally decided what I would wish on my No. 1 enemy.

Gout.

It’s a decision I reached the hard way, by suffering with what is incorrectly called the “rich man’s disease.” I am here to proclaim that retirees who are reasonably comfortable financially can also suffer from this version of hell on Earth.

I have suffered with the occasional bout of gout for about five years but I didn’t know what it was for the longest time, believing initially that a refrigerator had toppled squarely onto my left big toe and somehow I had not noticed.

I don’t like publicly disclosing that I suffer with gout because it sounds like a disease for old people; given, however, that I will mark my 64th birthday on Thursday I suppose there is no contradiction there. I have always considered myself pretty tough when it comes to illness and ailments, having only taken sick days twice in 24 years as editor at The Robesonian — one day for left elbow surgery and 17 for open-heart surgery to repair a valve.

But I would have called in temporarily crippled to my job in a golf shop on Wednesday except the call would have been at 6 a.m. and probably not answered so I manned up and dragged my foot around all day like an anvil on a chain. Also — and with apologies to George Constanza of “Seinfeld” fame whose quip has been slightly modified — sympathy is very underrated.

My gout telegraphs its arrival, peaks pain-wise at about 12 hours and is typically in a slow retreat at 36. It has migrated exactly the length of a size 12 foot from the left big toe to my Achilles’ heel, which the Greek hero of the Trojan War would tell you is the body’s most vulnerable part. Someone recently asked me how it felt and while I don’t know exactly how it feels to have a fractured foot that is resting on top of a campfire, I think that would hurt similarly but slightly less than gout.

Gout is a form of arthritis that is caused by elevated levels of uric acid that crystallizes in joints. About 1% to 2% of the population will suffer with it at some point in their lifetime, but the odds are greater if you are a male and aging, two boxes that I check. I would gladly self-identify as female, nonbinary or an it if I thought that would help. Not getting gout I now see as a consolation prize for dying young.

Genetics play a role, but I don’t think I can blame it on my parents. Lifestyle, particularly what we consume, appears to be the biggest culprit here.

In an effort to keep gout at bay, I take a daily dose of allopurinol and am acquiring a taste for cherry juice, but there are obviously holes in my defense, so handfuls of ibuprofen are part of the protocol. My liver probably feels like it is being double-teamed.

Next up — and this will not be easy — is a change in my lifestyle, one that has taken me almost 64 years to refine. Suggested changes include losing weight (I am down 26 pounds from two years ago, but there is work to be done), staying hydrated (easy enough), eating more fruit (told you it wouldn’t be easy), more rest (I can lengthen my daily nap) and drinking less alcohol (with college football season on the doorstep?).

If you Google “foods that cause gout,” which I have done often and just did again, the first option lists in order: red meat (rarely, believe it or not); fish (at least twice a week); wild game (almost never); scallops (whenever my money is backing up); shrimp (just this Tuesday, about 12 hours before a flareup) organ meat (never); beer (with the same regularity as allopurinol); sugary drinks (almost never); certain vegetables, including peas, spinach, mushrooms and asparagus (occasionally, but easily scratched from grocery list); certain fruits, including dates, plums, pears and prunes (never); and high-fat dairy in excess (never).

So when I review the list it’s clear to me that the most likely triggers are seafood and alcohol. I will especially miss the shrimp.