Over at andrewsullivan.com, readers have been deeply touched, for weeks on end, by gutwrenching tales of their favorite pundit's medical affliction. You see, Andrew has...(I'm tearing up as I write this...sorry)...he has sleep apnea. And yet, with every last bit of strenghth, this courageous man fearlessly blogs the hell out of his condition. Now even Time magazine considers Andrew's shocking disorder a matter of national importance [subscription required].
To be sure, there are always killjoys who feel that kvetching about assorted maladies is best left to geriatric bingo players with golf pants up to their armpits. Not me. I follow every blip on Andrew's chart with hungry attention; I rejoice that he has found relief in a hi-tech sleep mask and insists on dishing all the details. And so I positively thrill to posts like this one:
"...when you have air being pumped into you with a face mask for eight hours a night, and when there's nowhere for it to escape except some small holes in the top of the mask, then the air finds other outlets. So now, I officially have hot air coming out of both ends. The boyfriend has to choose between being deafened or fumigated."
Andrew, you brave, brave boy — thanks for sharing, and may your example inspire other bloggers. I trust it's only a matter of time before we read all about Wonkette's acne eruptions, Micky Kaus' canker sores, and Glenn Reynold's butt boils.
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