I got a call late yesterday evening from a technician at the local sleep clinic. “You are supposed to be here tonight,” said the tech.

I had had my doctor schedule me a sleep study, but never heard back from their office as to when it would take place. I had 30 minutes to decide whether to go through with it or postpone it. I bit the bullet and went.

The building was near Carter-Finley Stadium, so finding it was not a problem. In fact, I’d driven by it many times. I parked my car in the patient space and rang the bell to be let in, pillow in hand.