One of the most fearsome and embarrassing male middle-aged medical maladies is the "enlarged prostate." This condition causes a multitude of problems, none of them pleasant and most of them so embarrassing they can't be described in a general readership column. Causes of prostate enlargement include caffeine, middle-age and any activity listed on a honey-do list.

I'm no doctor, but in general terms, once the male prostate enlarges, it pushes against other body parts like the urethra and bladder, causing general mayhem and the earning of frequent restroom miles redeemable at any urinal in the United States courtesy of inContinental Airlines.

Although the correct medical term for this condition is "Tinklelitis Uninterruptis," most men better understand medical descriptions when compared to something they already know. So, in other words, if your bladder was a Motown singer, your Urethra Franklin would never stop singing the blues.

I, of course, do not suffer from this embarrassing condition, but I have a FRIEND who does. Because I speak frequently with this FRIEND, I fully understand the horror of his situation. My FRIEND made me promise to keep this confidential, so in the name of privacy let's just call my FRIEND, "Mike."

Like most doctor-shy men, Mike realized he had a problem only after being forced to move his living room furniture next to the toilet, which wasn't actually a problem in itself until his electric razor started tripping the television remote away from "Baywatch." Only then did Mike finally see the handwriting on the toilet seat and acquiesce.

So he stopped shaving.

But Mike's wife nagged him to get off the couch and go see a doctor until Mike got so angry he finally agreed, defiantly leaving the loveseat up as he stormed out the bathroom door.

No anatomy expert, Mike remained calm as the doctor explained that the quickest treatment for an enlarged prostate was massage.

"Prostate massage," said the doctor.

Mike nodded.

"With my finger."

Mike nodded, still unconcerned.

"Bend over. "

NOW Mike understood.

Forty hellish seconds later, Mike had no idea if he was cured, but having to tinkle all the time was no longer the worst thing he could imagine. Heck, he might even squeeze his bed next to that toilet.

In less than a minute, an enlarged prostate had converted Mike from feeling self confident and imPOtent, into a whimpering basket case who felt IMpotent. Which is, of course, one of the possibilities if you ever decide to have the damn thing removed.

On the upside, when Mike returned home, opened his bathroom door and greeted his wife on the couch, she was all over him with sympathy and smooches, which being a man, Mike was able to fully milk for the rest of the weekend.

So, all in all, being male, reaching middle-age and developing an enlarged prostate is not the end of the world -- it only SEEMS like it is. Any women who are peeking in on this column can best help their enlarged-prostate-men by being sympathetic, empathetic -- anything that makes us forget that our condition IS pathetic. You can love us, you can serve us, but please, oh please, just don't Pamper us.

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