This coming Monday, my wife and I will celebrate our 63rd wedding anniversary and I know that for a very special reason — I just got out of the hospital a few hours before writing this column for same-day surgery.

It seems like every year, for the last eight or 10 years, the week before our anniversary or the week of our anniversary, for some reason or another, I wind up in the hospital or having some sort of medical procedure. According to my wife, she says it has been for a much longer period of time and I plan it that way and use it as a reason to not do anything special on our anniversary. I tell her that is not true and being married to her is so special, nothing I could do could make it any better, but I think she is getting tired of that excuse. In any event, my record for hospital visits coinciding with wedding anniversaries is secure for another year.

Unfortunately, so is my encounter with the accursed hospital gown, without which no visit to the hospital is complete. Just after check-in and the signing of 38 forms — which I assume had something to do with the fact that the medical insurance company was the new owner of my home and all associated property — I found myself changing from my street clothes into a hospital gown with a very modest front panel design and a plunging neckline in the rear. I slipped on the gown, which I found impossible to tie the back for and is one of the main reasons I never wear an apron. As I reached down to place my clothes in a garment bag, the gown quickly slid down my arms and I now had a gown that plunged front and rear. A rear, my rear, I might add that was now not only totally exposed, but also freezing. I guess that is what a steak feels like when on display in a meat counter.

I was thankful that the door was closed, as this was not one of my finer moments. At a time like this when most people’s thoughts might turn to panic, modesty or even frustration, my mind saw the humor in the situation.

I immediately thought of the funny Mel Brooks movie, “Young Frankenstein,” with Gene Wilder as Frankenstein and Marty Feldman, who played the bug-eyed hunchback, Igor. Brooks was extremely funny in his productions and if he had my hospital experiences, I am sure he would have worked it into one of his films like my following suggestion.

I envisioned a scene where Igor orders Wilder down a set of stairs and into a torture chamber filed with hideous devices such as racks, iron mask, stocks and thumb screws all designed to inflict pain and suffering on the victim. Igor orders Wilder to undress and hands him a hospital gown, saying, “Put this on.” Wilder replies in wide-eyed terror, “NO, please, NO! Put me in the iron mask, use the thumb screws, put me on the rack — anything, but don’t make me wear a hospital gown.” That would have been perfect Mel Brooks twisted humor.

Seriously, a special heartfelt thanks to the doctors, nurses and staff at the UPMC Same Day Surgery unit for making my visit and procedure a success, and with the exception of the gown instance, a pleasant as possible experience. From my end, no pun intended, I can hardly wait to see what will happen next year to keep my “How did you screw up this year” anniversary record intact.

John Kasun writes from his home in Duncansville, where he asks fans of his column to please feel no need to send anniversary cards, flowers, candy or gifts. However, checks will be welcomed until April 15.