I was deeply, deeply moved by TheDudeDiogenes' response to my complaint about my doctor. Let me just reproduce the portion of his comment that touched me so profoundly:
"At any rate, I am only 33 and while I joke about being old (and am the oldest of
my "meatspace" friends, I surely have nothing on you Professor! Which brings to
my mind something that I have worried about whenever you mention your age or
health - supposing something tragic happens to you, is there any way readers of
this blog will know or will some day there just won't be any new posts? (I don't
wish to be morbid, and I wish you as many more years as you wish for yourself,
but the thought of you sustaining a debilitating or fatal injury or illness
fills me with great dread - I can't begin to express how much your wisdom, wit,
compassion, and joie de vivre have consoled and inspired me over the years, even
though I am an infrequent commenter.)"
Thank you, from the bottom of my heart. In my quirky way, this kind comment reminded of the very last scene in that strange Jim Carrey movie The Truman Show. Carrey plays a man whose entire life, unbeknownst to him, has been an on-going reality TV show filmed inside an enormous domed sound stage staffed with actors who have been with the show Truman's entire life. [Keep in mind that I and millions of others have been watching The Young and the Restless for twenty-five years.] The show ends when Truman figures out what is going on and finds his way to a door in the dome, through which he walks out of the show and into the real world.
The world-wide audience watches and cheers as Truman finds his way off the set. The last scene of the movie shows several firemen [I think] watching, transfixed, as the show goes dark. Then one turns to the other, picking up the remote, and asks, "What else is on?"
That is how I have always imagiued it would be should I blog 'til I die. I am moved by the thought that someone might miss the show.