Last week, the husband threw out his back. Silly fellow was getting out of bed.

I know, I know. I have tried to tell him that he should avoid such strenuous forms of activity, but he pays me no mind.

"We're getting to the age where we have to be more careful," I tell him ever so gently. "Remember, dear, we're not kids any more."

It's a given, I remind him, that folks of our vintage need to be a little more prudent than they once were before they go snowboarding or river-rafting or bareback-riding. Or before they get out of bed.

"We now have to think first," I tell him, "and plan a little more."

A few months back, same thing. The husband threw out his back while he was - wait for this - stepping out of the car.

"I must have turned in a weird way when I was stepping on to the driveway," he said, wincing in pain when he opened the door.

"Remember," I said, "we're not kids any more."

At one time - back when we were teenagers, say - we were able to greet life with reckless abandon, without having to worry about throwing out the backs. If we felt like it, we could go skydiving or bungee jumping, and feel confident we would not end up in need of an ice pack.

We could play squash or touch football or ice hockey, and maybe end up with a scratch on the chin or a bruise on the knee or a cut on the elbow. But not a thrown-out back.

Then we began to notice something odd. Thirty was not 20. Forty was not 30.

And 50 was definitely not 40.

"Man," I complained not long ago. "I've really wrenched my neck."

"Hmm," said the husband. "What were you doing?"

"Nothing," I said. "I mean, I was reading a book."

It's true. Get to be my age, which is not an age I'm prepared to divulge, and reading can become a tad risky, especially if you turn the pages - or your neck - too quickly.

At this rate, I can only guess what activities might be accident minefields in the years ahead. TV-watching? I'll probably sprain my wrist using the remote. Eating cereal? I don't even want to think about it.

In the meantime, of course, the husband is recovering from the back issue by reclining wherever he can: on the couch, in the recliner, on the bed.

He's happy as a clam right now. But then, he's yet to stand on his feet.