This aging business can kiss my ass. An ongoing series of absurd, embarrassing physical problems has made me more determined than ever to reverse the process. So from now on, I'm done with aging. There. Now that that's settled.

I had a back spasm bending over in the shower. (Yes, yes, very funny.) It just twisted wrong and I felt the famous sproing. We people with recurrent back problems are familiar with the sproing, which is always accompanied with the realization we're in for an exciting couple of weeks.

The back spasm was an indirect result of some minor surgery I'd had. I don't care to go into what manner of surgery it was. Let's just say it rhymes with "schmanal." You can count on me to have infections in the most disgusting areas. It couldn't be on my bicep or sternum or some other manly location.

I went to the Richmond Heights Hospital as an outpatient. I was excited about being anesthetized. When I was finally rolled into the surgical unit, they put one of those round billowy surgery caps on me and I looked at myself in the towel dispenser reflection. I looked good. Really good. Then the anesthesiologist informed me about the dangers of drinking alcohol the night before being put under.

"If you drink too soon before anesthesia, you could take a long time to wake up Å  or you might not wake up at all," he said darkly. I wanted to say, "I've definitely had hangovers where I wanted to be dead," but I merely assured him my last Busch Light was many moons ago. Let's get it on, people! Let's fillet that fistula!

They wheeled me into the operating room and I saw the stirrups for my legs. "I've really been looking forward to the stirrups," I said. "Now I know how the other half lives." (Referring to the ladies, of course.) I heard the nurse chuckle and that's all I remember. No counting backwards, no drifting off, just o-u-t, OUT. Versed! What a drug!

I had no problem waking up, but naturally for the next several days there was swelling and puffiness around you-know-where. I asked the surgeon about that on the phone afterwards and if I heard right, he said they called that condition "woody." I'm not even going to begin to go there.

After a doctor injects glue in your butt and — for all you know — you had been flopping around like a fish on an operating table, you are probably going to be moving around very carefully. Mincing around, actually. This is bound to cause a certain muscular tension. It's also not likely that during this period you'll be doing your morning ab crunches, either. Add it all up, and you're a prime candidate for your back spazzing out.

I took a philosophical attitude toward the spasm and did all right for a few days. I did the ice, then the heat. I even did the Ben Gay Pain Relieving Patch thing. To which my back said, "Ben Gay? That is such a very funny joke to me. Now I'm going to kill you. And I will triple your pain, since you insulted and annoyed me with your BEN ... GAY ... PAIN RELIEVING PATCH."

And it did. Like Archie Bell and the Drells, my back really did the "Tighten Up." This caused a considerable hitch in my giddy-up. Walking went like this: step, drag, whimper, step, drag, whimper.

Getting out of bed in the morning was a study in negotiation with my working muscles, of which my back was not one. After 10 minutes, I would finally manage to ooze out. But then I'd have to stand up, the pain of which was almost comic in its intensity. But, as I laughed — which came out as a piercing shriek — I calmly decided it was probably time for some prompt medical attention, or I was going to croak like within an hour.

We went to a walk-in clinic and I got a shot of painkiller in the ass, plus a prescription for the muscle relaxant Skelaxin. Relaxin' with Skelaxin. That should be Skelaxin's slogan.

And if the Skelaxinites want me to appear on their TV ads, I will. I was that pleased with their drug. They can talk about all the side effects and precautions as I toss a Frisbee to some dog actor, or swing on a swing set or play hopscotch. To show freedom of movement without pain. Works for me.

erictbroder@yahoo.com

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