Perhaps I’m of the wrong generation, but virtual worlds confuse me. But even back on a BBS (before the Internet and shortly after it started leaking out of institutions of higher education) I saw signs of virtual life. Thirteen year-olds would declare themselves engaged or married, or rather their in-game characters would. It was all part of the game on the computer; couples could share things that single characters couldn’t. But then you’d discover that some of the virtual couples were dating.
So here’s the question; are people using their avatars to live a life they wouldn’t think of living in real life, or one they very much want to live in real life? Are those two choices different? Maybe they aren’t. That flirt, or that bitch, in a chat room might deny being that way face to face and claim to never even think of displaying those behaviors toward another person. “Oh, that’s just a role played online.” But where did that come from? Is the avatar an object resulting from creativity or simply a loss of inhibition?
And what of the person that plays their avatar just as they would real life, simply as an extension of their self? To them, the virtual world is a different neighborhood to explore. New things to do and people to meet. And here is where the problems begin. Real-person-avatar meets unreal-person-avatar. Neither can know who they are interacting with. And maybe after all, this IS a model of real life, because we never do know whether the people we’re talking to are being honest. Even with themselves.
After another year, two maintenance cycles later, I was declared to be in remission. Lymphoma is one the the cancers that are currently considered incurable. That makes the number of “R” treatments 8 (initial 6, and extended 2, of the treatment cycles every three weeks) plus 16 (four maintenance cycles of weekly treatments for four weeks each) = 24. 24 infusions of Rituximab, not counting the other drugs in the first eight regular treatments, each costing about $6000. That’s $144,00. for just one drug! Add CT and PET scans, hospital stay, urologist office visits and procedures, oncologist office visits, labs and the other infusion drugs and procedures, and the original GP , surgeon and other consultations in the diagnosis. In a period of 2½ years I “spent” a fortune. I’m sure this earned the insurance premiums. But neither should be this high.
Anyway, that was the end of January, 2012. Since then, including a few other illnesses and conditions along the way, I’m now taking nine drugs (one in three doses) daily. By far most of these are an attempt to counter the side effects or conditions resulting from the chemo. They don’t entirely but I’d hate trying to do without.
I’m now nearing 4 years in remission. I get blood tests and oncologist visits every 6 months. My existence as a “cancer patient” has outlived the careers of some of my oncologists. I’m on my fourth not counting the director of the consulting practice partnership who was there for my initial hospital stay. I guess that’s a positive thing. Most of the support staff I’ve enjoyed seeing are still at the infusion center.
I only remembered that I have this blog because my host provider forced an update on the WordPress application and sent me an e-mail. So since then I had begun to consider whether I wanted to return to blogging or abandon it. Obviously I’ve written too much already for this to be a good-bye post (well, maybe not with my long-windedness). But is isn’t.
I’ve been thinking of a number of things to log about. Should I put them here? Should they be in their own assigned category? Should I put everything in one post or make multiple posts in one day if I’m thinking of different things? I really don’t know much of what I’m doing here and there aren’t clear answers because people blog the way they think. Some people blog just like someone else because they like to copy (sheeple come to mind). Independent souls have unique blogs. Finally, some blogs like mine evolve because their authors are just learning. So now I’ve convinced myself that it doesn’t matter. Thank you.
More later. I have no idea how soon or later.