The new orthopedist pooh-poohed my MRI results and said, "You don't need surgery, you need physical therapy," which I'm now doing three times a week at eight in the morning. I seem to be the only one there who works up a sweat and carries a towel and water. I don't quite get what being a physical therapist is all about. Forgive me P.T.s reading this, I know there is a lot of training and education involved, but it seems to me that after the first few times of showing me how to use the weight machines, elastic bands and giant beach balls, you don't have much else to do except show other new people how to use the same gizmos, plus throw some icepacks on us before we leave.

Speaking of which, I have had many physicians and alternative healthcare practitioners deliver impassioned speeches to me, explaining in precise, medically scientific terms why I should absolutely always and only use ice on my various hurting body parts, while others, equally as passionate, tell me I should absolutely always and only use heat. So far the score is three for ice and three for heat. Until there's a tiebreaker, I just do lukewarm, which doesn't help at all but feels like a safe choice.

When my headaches got bad enough, I saw a head guy who took an MRI of my brain, claimed it was normal and recommended Tylenol. A friend told me "normal is relative." I told her I had never been a hypochondriac before. She said, "That's because nothing ever bothered you before." Oh.

Meanwhile, my brand new shoulder guy took x-rays and gave me a shot of cortisone, feeling pretty confident that my pain would disappear within ten minutes, indicating that I was merely suffering from inflammation rather than a more serious tear of the rotator cuff. Ten minutes later he waltzed back into the room and merrily twisted my shoulder behind my back, then up and around, reminding me of those guys who make balloon animals, and I made very loud and unhappy noises. So he ordered an MRI and has recommended physical therapy as a first step. He told me to ice my shoulder when I got home.

So, to sum up: I have seen a toe guy, an ankle guy, four knee guys, a head guy and a shoulder guy. I also have a mental health guy—two actually, though one is just a prescribing machine—and of course, there's my tooth guy, plus my tooth lady who actually does all the work.

Thank God I only have to see my colon guy once a decade. I used to see my G.P. regularly to monitor my cholesterol levels, but then my old college friend Billy dropped by to visit. Billy's a physician, and he informed me that he has never checked his cholesterol levels, never had a colonoscopy, and basically doesn't believe in doctors. I immediately stopped my cholesterol meds and have had no further blood work since Billy's visit. My grandmother lived to 97 with cholesterol in the high 400s.  My only cause for hesitation was when my wife Shari noted that a) when we took Billy out for breakfast he ordered the bacon cheeseburger deluxe; and b) his 60-year-old brother dropped dead of a heart attack a few months ago. She didn't recommend him as my role model for physical health. On the up side, being an OB/GYN, he was quite generous in giving her free samples of various feminine hygiene products, and she wasn't sure if she should be insulted or grateful.

I also went to two chiropractors—both were strictly ice people—and saw an acupuncturist twice a week for three months. He told me he was trained in traditional Chinese medicine but didn't believe in any of it—not the meridians, the pulses, the Five Elements theory, none of it. He called his approach the "Ah Here!" school; he pokes and presses until he finds the most painful spots—"Ah, here!"— and then jabs oversized needles right there, which caused me to jump and scream obscenities the first few sessions. He threatened to fire me for scaring his other patients, but I eventually settled down. The treatments didn't help, however, and he told me absolutely never to use ice, under any circumstances. And to avoid cortisone injections at all costs. And to eat more fat.

All the New Age, Eastern-oriented approaches to health stress the "whole body" view. That is, despite the way our Western medical world is set up, we are actually not just a bunch of individual parts, operating in isolation. I don't want a foot guy or knee guy, I want a human being guy, who gets the whole picture. For example, it's quite possible that the way I walk, compensating for the pain in my big toes, is what threw my knees out, and my diet is probably to blame for my big toes. And most likely you caused my headaches.

To cover my "whole body" bases, I received several energy healings and Reiki sessions, and learned that my physical issues are actually spiritual in their origin, and that everything ailing me is simply fear and resistance made manifest. Louise Hay's popular book, Heal Your Body, says, for example, that problems in the knee represent "Stubborn ego and pride,"—check—"Inflexibility"—check—and her remedy is to repeatedly affirm to oneself, I bend and flow with ease, and all is well. Shoulders have to do with burdens we're carrying, and so forth. None of her remedies mention Naproxen or Voltaren Cream.

A Feldenkrais practitioner thinks most of my problems basically have to do with slouching. I actually like her diagnosis the best! And I'm no slouch.

The bottom line is, Buddha wasn't kidding about the human drama being an inevitable progression of aging, sickness, decay and death, none of which are fun for the average person. And meanwhile—seriously—my lower back is killing me. I need another guy.

I bend and flow with ease, and all is well. I bend and flow with ease, and all is well. I bend and flow with ease, and all is well. I bend and flow with ease, and all is well...