I swear, my body is sending out distress signals in Morse code and I still can’t figure out what the heck it’s trying to say. All week, my lower back had been whispering little complaints—just enough to make me pause and think, “Hmm, what was that?” But last night? Last night, it screamed. Loud and clear: “You’re not sleeping tonight, sweetheart!”

No position worked. I tossed and turned like a fish out of water. Right side, nope. Left side, nope. On my back? Forget it. On my stomach? HA! That just made it angrier. I spent two hours trying to get comfortable next to poor Ken, who was snoring away like nothing was happening. I finally gave up and slinked into the guest room. I thought maybe a change of mattress would help. Nope. The back was still wide awake, and unfortunately, so was I.

What’s weird is that it’s usually my right side that gives me grief. But not today! Oh no, today my lower left side decided to stage a protest. And I mean a full-blown picket line with signs and chants. I could barely sit on the edge of the bed this morning without wincing like I’d aged twenty years overnight.

I tried doing some light stretches—because I read somewhere that movement helps. That “somewhere” lied. It did nothing. Then I tried a heating pad. Then ice. Then more stretches. I’ve basically done everything short of calling in a priest for an exorcism.

And to top it all off, this afternoon we’re heading over to the Elks Lodge for the USO Show.

So I ask you—what else should I try? I’ve done ice, heat, stretches, moaning dramatically.

Whatever this is, I hope it passes fast. Because I’ve got things to do, places to be, and shows to enjoy. And this back pain? It’s not on the guest list.

If anyone has a magic remedy, please send it ASAP. Preferably in a bottle with a cork and a genie inside.

Eydie