Well, Friday was interesting, but I just don't want to go into it right now. Suffice it to say--I can't help myself, I tell you!--I left home at 6:30 after being awakened by a phone call and didn't get back until close to 8:00. That's a teaser, all right, but at this point, I'm going to leave it there.
Later (actually, eleven days later): I'm going to add here what actually happened on Friday, December 5, but as succinctly as possible. I had been feeling lousy for several days--short of breath, achy, and so exhausted I could hardly put one foot in front of the other. I forced myself to drive to various stores, but had to stop and rest every few yards, just to get from my car to the door. Went to bed early on Thursday night and was awakened at 6:15 am Friday by a phone call from a man. I still don't know who it was--found out later a doctor--although I'm sure he identified himself. He said I should go to the emergency room of the hospital right away and tell them I had a hemoglobin count of 5.6 and needed a blood transfusion. I was dumbfounded, but did exactly as he had instructed. Drove to the hospital, parked in the garage, and went in. I had to go down several long corridors and by the time I had made it three-quarters of the way, I was holding on to the wall. I desperately needed to sit down, but there was no place to do it, so I asked a passing staff member if she could get me a wheel chair. She did and a security person took me the rest of the way. They took some info, then immediately put me in a room, took a blood test (count now down to 5.5), did a chest x-ray and EKG, doctor came in, we talked, and so on and so forth, and I was there for ten hours and they gave me two liters of blood. I had called Ellen and my friend, asking the latter to e-mail my sons with the news. El came after school and we left. She folded my clothes, we went out for dinner, then came home, and I slept better than I have in weeks.